


So It Goes

by HammieSlice, OneWhoTurns



Category: Oxenfree (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cover Art, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Timelines, No Sex, Possessed Alex, Possessed Jonas, Possession, Romance, Seduction while Possessed (slight hints of dubcon), Step-Sibling Incest, T-to-M for horror imagery and foul language, Time Loop Angst, an unnecessary amount of Slaughterhouse-Five references, hint of lime, radio holder!Jonas, slight body horror, solving the timeloop, some angsty Jonas backstory, stepcest, tw for mentions of previous self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 17:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 68,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HammieSlice/pseuds/HammieSlice, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoTurns/pseuds/OneWhoTurns
Summary: For as long as Edwards Island has trapped her, Alex has learned a few things. How the night will go, what happens during it, what she thinks she has to do in order to escape. But each and every time, as the calendar rounds out to August 8th, she’s sent back through the rabbit hole with her friends - and an enemy - at her side. Sticking to the script has gotten her nowhere. But that was when she was holding the radio.-Jonas thinks he might have done this before. And maybe it has happened more than once. Five times, maybe? It's a script that's getting clearer and clearer as the night goes on. All he knows for sure is this: he needs to be the one holding the radio.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: HammieSlice wrote Alex, OneWhoTurns wrote Jonas, we collabed on everything else, with a couple exceptions that will be mentioned when applicable.

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/186472459105/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**PROLOGUE**

He’s not sure when it popped into his head, but he’s halfway clear on what he has to do before they even jump the fence — the second fence, that is, not the one at the top of the cliffs. At the top of the cliffs he was still jarred by Ren’s complete lack of awareness. Weird, considering what happened on the ferry felt like something right up his alley. (Or, well, Jonas considers; what seems like his alley. He’s pretty sure drugs will feature at some point tonight, and that they will be intrinsically tied to the blonde twerp who seems intent on doing things that would really not look good on Jonas’s already spotty record.)

The ferry was… weird. Beyond weird. And somehow Ren was the only one unaware of what was happening.

_“But, anyways. I promised him that I’d play a song from his band so-”_  
A fraction of a second of static, and then it was his own voice. _“_ _You need to—_ _”_  
_" Don’t come to the Island!"_ The sheer panic in Alex’s voice, slightly garbled on the radio waves, is apparent, but there’s no time to analyze it.   
_" What’s—? Alex! Alex…"_ Whatever’s happening, he sounds like he’s facing down something big and spiky with very sharp teeth. _“_ _C’mon, you— you know me!_ _”_  
There’s something feral that’s only barely not a full-on shriek before- _“_ _Just- stay away! If anyone— "_ It’s painful to hear, it’s the sound of someone struggling, someone beyond desperation. _“_ _If anyone’s out there, please—_ **_stay away!_** _”_  
_“ Stop hurting her! What— Alex?! Alex!"_  
_“...Here are the Redheaded Bedwetters with “Baby Carrots!””_

“....You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” 

-

**ONE**

This is something out of Alice and Wonderland. Throughout the loops, that has been her whole idea. She is Alice - Alice, Alex, it was meant to be - and everyone else is along for the ride. But there are some people that can be more influential when she doesn’t notice. People like Jonas. The ferry was just an anomaly, which is what she wants to believe, but it probably wasn’t. Jonas hasn’t been on those tapes before. Sure, she’s heard herself on the station, right before the name of the band, but Jonas? He’s just normal. He’s just Jonas.

Hopping the fence wasn’t new. Arguing with Ren wasn’t new, and Alex almost didn’t bother continuing the conversation past ‘Brownie Town’ before diving into the cave after her partner in crime. Her garbage snowman. Who she hasn’t even called that nickname yet. Oh, god, this is weird. This time she doesn’t call for Jonas, just walks in silence, noting her observations on the walls and trash before finding him right up on his pedestal of rock with the phone flashlight on, looking over everything.

“Jonas! Why didn’t you wait for me?”

-

“Je—” He stops himself from jumping, but wow she’s right there isn’t she? When did that— Wait, no, he— He’s been here. Jonas has definitely been here before. He gives her that same look he shot her earlier, the one she basically ignored on the ferry, and definitely didn’t see during that awkward as hell Truth or Slap game. Narrowed eyes, furrowed brow, almost thinking she might be fucking with him, playing some kind of practical joke, but also _acutely_ aware of the sheer panic in that radio message. Which, to be honest, feels like a fever dream already. “I’m… sorry. For going ahead.”

His tongue feels slow, like he’s just spitting out words he’s been fed over and over. “I thought… You know what, forget what I thought. It was wrong. Obviously.” He turns his flashlight around, really trying not to let his curiosity get the better of him 'cause— well, the whole ‘curiosity killed the cat’ thing feels super applicable at the moment. “Let’s just— leave. Let’s just get out of here.”

He can feel it pulling at him. Something just that little bit further in. And it feels… well, important. Like maybe life-or-death important? But also kinda horribly terrifying, so… Can’t hurt to at least attempt to avoid it, right?

-

No. No, she’s supposed to say that, she almost _always_ says that. For Jonas to just get out of here. And he never listens to her. The one time he did… Well, Alex can’t remember the one time he did anymore. Everything is blurring together. It makes her head hurt. When she tucks teal strands of hair in front of her face, she can’t quite tell if it’s from his withering look, or the onset of pain. Alex shoves her way through it. Looks like she’s just going to have to play his role for a little while. Just until it all matches up again.

“I mean, yeah, we could, but uh- Just check the place out, you know? March around a little bit, see if there’s any…” She waves a hand in front of his face as she passes, her sneakers nearly slipping on the gap she’d forgotten was there. “Buried treasure, huh?”

Alex tries to sell the performance with a feature she’s picked up from Jonas himself. Wide, bright eyes and a big smile. Even if no matter how hard she tries, hers is crooked. Just get through the night. Ignore the anomalies. Work through the teenage angst bullshit, and come out clean.

“Besides, Ren is getting high outside, and as much as I love the guy, he gets annoying when he’s on a bender.”

-

“Yeah, he’s…” Trailing off mid-thought, Jonas shakes his head. “Yeah! Yeah, no, we can… yeah.” It’s a few more feet in. He knows it’s there. Whatever _it_ is.

A few scrapes on his palms are nothing, scrambling around on rocky ledges, realizing, “This place is… incredible. Holy crap.” He jogs a bit to get closer to the massive outcropping of crystalline something or other, and catches it out of the corner of his eye. A glance. Half a glance, actually. He won’t give it more than that. He clears his throat for a moment, trying to look like he hasn’t noticed it. Maybe she won’t… or—

He knew what he had to do before they jumped the fence. He needs the radio. He’s gonna put an end to this once and for all.

-

Anomaly averted. It’s something she’s tried to do, now that everything has started blurring together. Say the same things, get the same reaction, at least attempt to recreate the same loop over and over again. It becomes exhausting after a while, but Alex has gotten used to it. She hopes she’s gotten used to it. This time, instead of a cabinet right next to the edge of the cave, there’s a little radio station that she knows won’t work. Alex tries it anyways.

Jonas is always the one to point out the little triangle in the air. It’s never her. It can’t be her- Shouldn’t be, really. So she goes about her usual routine. Kicks pebbles into the water, riddles around with station dials, and tries to make light of the creepy graffiti on the walls.

“Saw the man, not the dog. What kind of hippie stuff do you think that is, huh, Jonas?” Alex tries to seem like she isn’t paying attention to what’s above them, as she runs her fingertips along the faded paint.

The radio is still tucked into her back pocket.

-

“Alex…” He’s looking at the random equipment, unease stirring in his gut. He doesn’t trust it. No way, no how. Her comments on the graffiti jar him for a second, but not much. “Did you see the first half?” That’s another weird thing, like he’s talking for someone else. “‘See a man about a dog?’ Yeah, I don’t get it either.”

This is just… bizarre. Jonas’s hand is on his forehead in an instant, 'cause he’s pretty sure he just answered himself. “Wait— what— Okay, something is definitely weird. Super, _incredibly_ weird right now.” And now his unease is matched by frustration, and he says screw it and goes right for the radio equipment. It’s like second nature, clicking the switch, leveling the dial, holding down the little button on the intercom. “Ren, Nona: we’re in the cave. I think— Wait, no— no, I think it’s caved in?”

_ Hello. Soldier. Welcome back. _

“...Alex. Give me the radio.”

-

“What? Why?”

Alex turns on her heel and about faces the moment Jonas starts talking into the empty space of receiver to recorder. Little ticks of static level themselves once the machine had turned on, and as he clicked at buttons or tried his hand at the receiver. They’re only supposed to do that in the bunker. Only she can do that, very specifically, in the bunker. At the end of the night. Not at the start. Her eyebrows furrow a bit.

Her sneakers pad along at a steady pace when she goes to stand next to Jonas, and takes the radio out of her back pocket, extending the antenna and holding it out to him. This… No, this is wrong. This is all wrong. She is supposed to have the radio the entire night. She is supposed to save them. That’s how this works.

The hand holding the device is shaking. “I— Jonas, I dunno about this, man… Maybe you should leave the freaky-deaky shit to a freak? Like me?” She starts to pull back. No. Alex won’t let this happen.

-

He’s maybe a little short tempered as he plucks the little handheld monster from her grasp. Or maybe not short tempered: decisive. Stubborn. “I’ve got this.”

It’s like remembering some dance he learned as a kid at summer camp. It’s not exactly second nature, but it feels familiar, like he could get used to it. Click of the on switch, a turn of the dial-

It kind of hurts, a little. Not like a pain-pain, but like… like that headache you get at the end of a rollercoaster. Like something has been shaking his bones. He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, but keeps going, tuning the opposite direction. The headache is in waves at first, going heavy then light, then heavy again, the buzzing sinking straight into his soul. The third point is what does it. And it’s— well, the thing in the air was a triangle, makes sense it has three points.

There’s a brief moment — a pang of the thing ripping straight through the fabric of reality — and then it doesn’t hurt anymore. Just a steady humming. Like this is how it was destined to go all along.

 _ Oh. It’s you. Again. _  
_ You’ll give up. The struggle. To live. To. To escape._  
_ Eventually._

“Not gonna happen.” He’s only about 10% sure of what’s happening right now, but he sure as hell knows whoever- whatever- this _thing_ isn’t winning this… whatever it is.

 _ These- These machines. _  
_ Won’t help._  
_ Other you. Can’t help.  
They can’t be helped._

He doesn’t even bother responding, though a hearty _fuck you_ is echoing in his head.

-

This is so, so wrong. Jonas should be making quips by now. She should be the one turning the radio. The- The thing, whatever it is - the crew, the sunken - it should be responding to her. Not to…

Her head feels hot. It hurts like a brand, and Alex’s lungs are iron when she stares up at the triangle. That fucking son of a bitch triangle. She takes off her jacket despite the chill, and ties it around her waist, but her head still hurts. It’s still too hot. Hair falls against her neck when she removes the ponytail in an attempt to alleviate pressure, because that was a thing that could happen— Right? _Right?_

“Jonas, Jonas stop.”

-

She tells him to stop and he’s still glaring at that damned triangle. “I’ve _got_ this!” He repeats, shaking his head, trying to shrug her off. Jonas is about ready to shout at these— these _whatever,_ but Alex isn’t letting go, or maybe she did, and she’s back, and she’s holding onto him for dear life.

-

 _ We. Are the Sunken. _  
_ You. Are the Soldier._  
_Sleepy. Time. Gal._  
_Can’t help._  
_No help._

She’s getting weaker by the second, and she knows she is. When she grapples onto Jonas’ shoulders, and tries to tear her eyes away from the roof of the cave, they’re the color of car brake lights.

“Stop it! Stop, it- God- Jonas, they’re-” Her knees give out on her. When she goes down, Alex goes down hard, with the sickening crack of her head on a stray rock.

-

“Wh-” He looks to her and his eyes go wide as soon as he sees the light pouring from hers. “Alex!” He tries to steady her, holding her up by the elbows, but she’s falling fast and he’s trying to keep an eye on the thing in the air. “What are you doing to-”

_ No. One. _

He tried, he did, but Jonas is ripped out of this reality and straight to the bottom of the ocean. It’s whale song and sonar pings all the way down, and it’s so _empty._ “...Alex?” He’s not expecting her to hear him. She’s gone. Wherever she is, she’s gone and he’s here now. He takes a breath, still dry, still breathing on the ocean floor, and thinks that maybe this was inevitable.

[ ](https://h4mm132l1c3.tumblr.com/post/186462540771/so-it-goes-alexjonas-radio-holderjonasp)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy. So, this is now, as of 12:36AM on the 22nd of July, 122 pages long and looks like it might actually be completed (so YAY). It's gonna be heavy handed on the whump/comfort/romance and all the drama our little hearts can handle, but let it be known: there will be a happy ending. Or, at the worst, bittersweet, depending on how you see things. A lot of hemming and hawing went into this, but we knew we wanted to end the loops and goddammit we will. (Also props to Hammie for being the fastest partner ever, cranking out immense amounts of content over like five days.) This fandom is tiny, this ship is tinier, and we're here to do the lord's work. Peace.  
> -OWT
> 
> Hey there y'all! This is Hammie, the one that was basically churning out a good page and a half of stuff right along with Turner here. She was one of the main reasons I actually got into writing for this ship, other than just consuming some good good media content for it. It's been so much fun collabing with her, and we're hoping to do even more in the future. If we can keep still on a project for long enough. Anyways, the main thing is, thank you for reading the first chapter! We look forward to your continued support.
> 
> -HammieSlice


	2. Chapter 2

[ ](https://h4mm132l1c3.tumblr.com/post/186496186996/so-it-goes-alexjonas-radio-holderjonas)

**TWO**

Why had they come here again? Right. Ren wanted to have that stupid bash on the beach. Well, he’s certainly gotten his bash now.

Alex woke up at the foot of Harden Tower fifteen minutes ago. Jonas is right beside her. If a little askew. With his eyes closed and arms crossed as if he were in a coffin. She thought he was dead, and he might as well be, if not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the warmth he still gives off. It’s cold without her jacket. What happened to her jacket, anyways? She’d had it with her when she came to the island. Maybe it was still on the ferry.

That isn’t important right now. New kid and stupid stepbrother extraordinaire had done _something_ with his radio, and there had been this bright light, and wow does her head hurt. Jesus.

Alex starts shaking him. “Jonas. Jonas? You can stop playing dead now. Just get up and say ‘surprise' or whatever.” No response. “Seriously, dude, this isn’t funny anymore.”

-

He feels waterlogged. Which is weird, 'cause he’s bone dry. But he’s sluggish as hell and thinks maybe he drowned at some point in the last five minutes. The noise that works it’s way from his throat is something like a gargle if a gargle were also fed up with just about everything. He sits up okay, but everything feels… topsy turvy. Backwards. It’s like everything is mirrored from what it should be. _Through the looking glass_ , Jonas rubs at his temples. And probably not something he’d like to look into at the moment.

“What… What happened?” There’s something hard wedged under his hip, and he shifts to free it from its bruising position. A radio. His radio? That doesn’t feel quite right. But it’s in his hands, now.

-

There’s an audible breath of relief that comes out of her when Jonas sits up. Good to know she isn’t alone out here after all. Her hands are still on his shoulders, and just as Alex realizes, she snaps them away with an awkward sounding laugh. But she’s clearly just as shaken as he is.

“I- I don’t really know? Uhm. We were in the cave and we found, well, we found _something,_ you used your radio to tune into like; the threads or whatever? And I don’t remember after that.” There’s a distraught kind of note in her voice. She knows there should be more than this. She just can’t figure out why she knows that. “Just, I mean, I kind of... thought you were dead for a little bit, but uh. You’re not. Clearly.”

The wind chill rolls through. It soaks into her bones. Maybe it was a good idea to leave her hair down after all.

-

It’s kinda sorta coming back to him. Not that it makes any more sense, but— “Oh crap— you- are you okay?” He reaches for her arm, as much to steady himself as to look her over. She looks fine. Well… she looks kinda rattled and maybe a tiny bit terrified, but her head doesn’t _appear_ to be cracked open, no matter what it sounded like before. But there is-

“You’re bleeding.” It’s half-hidden behind her ear, trickling like slow syrup down her neck. He stands up - 'cause this is kind of a problem that needs to be addressed - and stumbles forward with the rush of blood to his head, catching himself on her elbows. “There’s—” He straightens and he’s pushing aside her hair, trying to find the source of it. As he brushes it past her shoulders, stepping around behind her to keep up his inspection, he frowns. “This is actually kind of a lot of blood.” But that’s par for the course with head wounds. It’s staining her hair a bit, but at least that helps him track down the injury.

-

Alex starts talking, and then hisses through her teeth in pain when he hits the back of her head. The cut is right around the nape of her neck, a long gash still filled with grime, and Jonas’s fingers come away stark red.

“C’mon Jonas, I’m not… Shit, I don’t even feel it now. The cold is probably numbing me or something.” All she can offer is a shaky smile, but her nails are digging into the sleeves of his jacket, and she’s shaking. Alex can’t feel the area around it so much as she can feel what isn’t there- An odd chill that reaches like a claw all the way into her brain, where sinew and muscle and skin have been torn away. It’s odd. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt this open in her life. The closeness doesn’t bother her, either, like it usually would with a stranger, like she’s-

Like she’s done this before. She’s been here before. When her voice comes out again, it’s softer than she means for it to be, “You’re the one that was out cold for probably an hour. I can handle a little external bleeding. I can just, like, patch it up with my sleeve. Seriously. You don’t have to worry about me right now.” It’s too familiar, and it makes her head hurt worse. Someone just keeps squeezing lemon juice into the paper cut, huh? Gently, so she doesn’t rattle herself more than she already has, Alex tries to pry her hands out of the fabric of Jonas’s jacket. She can feel herself shaking harder by the second. Is she getting woozy from blood loss, or from the cold, or something else? Shit if she knows.

-

“Not feeling it isn’t good, Alex.” Jonas is hesitant to touch it any more than he has to, 'cause his hands probably aren’t as clean as they should be. Neither is the cut. And he’s _definitely_ not as good at this as he should be. Then again, he doubts there’s anyone else on this island that _would_ be good at it.

For the first time, he actually looks around, takes in his surroundings instead of just watching Alex like she’s about to go all red-eyed again— a thought that makes him pause. He hesitates for a second, wondering if he should ask about it, if she’ll think he’s hallucinating (and seriously, what if he is? Something is definitely up and it’s a bit of a mindfuck). But there’s a comm tower or something, and he glances between Alex and the tower.

“Look, you just— you just… hang out here, I guess. There’s probably some first aid stuff up there, and…” Everything is kind of overwhelming. Jonas feels like there’s so much he should be doing, and if he’s trying to do it at all he’s doing it wrong.

“Shock. Shock is a thing.” He’s mostly just thinking aloud at this point as he hurriedly pulls off his jacket. “Here.” He’s got layers, she’s just in a t-shirt. Wait, what happened to her jacket? He swears she was wearing it, even in the cave. It’s red, it’s kinda hard to miss. And yet, it’s definitely missing.

He takes a step toward the tower, pauses, turns back. This is… a lot right now. A lot of responsibility he didn’t ask for is pressing him into the ground and stealing the air from his lungs, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. She’s hurt. He watches her for a second, trying not to give away just how much all of this is stressing him out. Would it be better? ...Or worse? He let’s out a strangled sigh and pulls the beanie from his head, running a hand through the mess underneath to at least attempt to fix the hat hair, and holds it out to her.

-

And now she has two new articles of clothing. For a minute Alex just stares at them, and then back at Jonas, and then back at the jacket and the beanie, before deciding she is way too cold to deal with the whole ‘I just met this guy’ stuff. So she throws the jacket around her shoulders before pulling the orange knit hat over her head, wincing when it passes over her cut, and tucking her arms into the sleeves just after. It smells like cigarette smoke and old oak resin. She thinks she likes that smell. Woah, okay, the shock must be… really setting in, then. There’s a pause when she feels something that had been in his pocket thudding at her leg, and she pulls out his radio- His— no, _the_ radio. The radio sounded more normal. But he’d been the one to bring it to the island. Slowly, she starts moving again, patting Jonas on the arm and lingering before her hand falls away as Alex walks toward the tower.

“Well I guess you got your ghost story, huh? Y’know, it’s- it’s stupid- Ren and I would…” Ren. Oh, no. If she and Jonas were just waking up around here, where the hell is Ren? Nona? Clarissa? Sure, she doesn’t really care for the girl anymore, but they are still people. Still important to someone, even if it isn’t her. She sticks his radio back into the jacket. “Okay. There’s probably some like- radio stuff? On the inside of Harden Tower, this huge hunk of metal here, so if we just. Get up there, we might be able to call for them.” Maybe. Hopefully.

Truth be told, she’s probably in no state to climb. Truth be told, she’s probably way, way more scared over this whole situation than she’s letting on. But Alex has never really been one to tell the truth anyways. As she ascends, her sneakers slip a few times, she takes longer than normal to grab onto rungs, but she’s getting there.

“You coming or what, Soldier?”

-

It’s incredibly bizarre seeing her in his clothes. It’s weird. Like… that’s a weird thing, right? That’s like… boyfriend/girlfriend stuff. That’s like that one girl he dated sophomore year who stole his hoodie. He’s enough out of it that she’s already walking past before he comes to his senses. “No wait-” But she’s already climbing. And he doesn’t want to distract her, 'cause—

He sucks in a quick breath when her foot slips for a second, taking half a step back as though he could do anything to help her if she _did_ fall. Then he’s clutching onto the ladder so hard his knuckles are going white 'cause he doesn’t want her to come crashing down, and she’s almost at the top, and—

“Why-” _Soldier._ That’s not— Where did that even come from? He’s waiting at the bottom of the ladder, but as soon as she’s on the platform he’s climbing double-speed to catch up. “What’s with—” his voice is faltering as he climbs, “—the weird— nicknames?”

-

“Uhm. I dunno, actually.” Now that she thinks about it, she hasn’t really called him a nickname before, has she? No, it’s always been Jonas. Alex calls Ren nicknames. Maybe she should try to find one for him. But… “That one just felt right I guess. 'Cause of how you’re trooping along with me and my weird, teal hair, and busted open head.”

This time when she laughs, it’s real. Alex can hear the little _tip-tap-tip-tap-tip_ of his feet as they speed up on the rungs, and she manages to hoist him up onto the platforms without getting too dizzy, which means she might be doing a bit better. People with concussions were supposed to stay awake, right? Keep the blood pumping? Well Alex was certainly good on that front. She’d just scaled a ladder, and now she was scaling a whole bunch of steps, with her new stepbrother on her heels. Ren had said something about him sharing her toothbrush, which was more than a little weird, but sharing clothes was something she’d done with Michael all the time. That was his jacket, anyways. There’s always this odd kind of pang in her chest when she thinks about it. Like he’s just right there.

Once they’re at the top, she goes for the door, only to discover it locked. Because of course the museum island thing would keep the door shut on some really, really old radio sound equipment that was probably only good for selling in antique stores anyways. From what she’s heard about Jonas, he’d been in juvie for a good stint, and she isn’t exactly the best kid either. Especially not after- Well. After that. So she gestures to the door, with her signature little crooked smirk, and crosses her ankles over one another while ‘tipping’ the beanie his way. Which is really just nodding her head. “You know anything about a locked door?”

-

The explanation doesn’t help the goosebumps sprouting on his skin, but he stays quiet and just watches her. It’s easy to follow her, like second nature, 'cause she seems to know what she’s doing and she’s laughing and he’s somewhere between comforted and weirded out by it. It doesn’t feel right to be laughing when this shit is going down, but… well, it makes it easier. He’s breathing a little deeper now, the tightness that had seized his throat watching her climb lessening, shoulders relaxing a little.

He has no clue where she’s getting her energy, but it’s a relief to see she’s not stumbling around or about to faint. It makes him feel a little bit better, like maybe he’s not going to accidentally let his new stepsister die the first time he meets her. She gives him a look, makes it clear she’s pretty sure he knows what to do (and to be fair, she’s right and he does), and Jonas rolls his eyes. “Using me for my nefarious talents, I see how it is.” But he doesn’t argue, though he does stick a hand in his pocket - her pocket, his jacket - to retrieve his wallet.

-

“Aw c’mon, don’t be like that! I’d usually- Okay, for the sake of this, I never learned how to pick, my fingers are too spindly- The last time I broke in somewhere I just. Used a crowbar. Easier that way.” She’s still leaning against the railing when he goes rifling through the pockets of his jacket, and Alex has a big grin on her face, which only gets bigger once he pulls out the right tools for the job.

-

A crowbar? Jonas raises an eyebrow, realizing that she’s actually a lot wilder than he’d initially expected. The picture he’d gotten from his dad, of Grace and her kids (and her ex, which— weird), had been of a 15 year old brunette, and he’d shown up to find a girl with a grin and hair like the freakin’ caribbean.

His fingers bump against hard plastic and he pulls out the radio as well as what he was searching for. And he remembers a thing. He remembers taking it from Alex. Which - it’s not like he forgot it, or he doesn’t think he forgot it, it’s just… it pops into his head. “Sorry. This is… you can have it back. I didn’t mean to keep it.” He hands it back over and kneels before the comm tower’s door, pulling out his debit card and getting to work on jimmying the lock.

-

Then Jonas says something that strikes her as odd. His radio - which is obviously his radio, he’d brought the thing - is being handed over to her. “Hey… Uh, wait a minute. You brought this here. You wanted to see if the ghost stories were real, because Ren had been telling you about them all day.” They had been texting back and forth beforehand, right? Her mom had given him the number because she hadn’t been home at the time, and her best friend always keeps his phone on hand seeing as that’s just how he is, when suddenly her head feels hot all over again.

-

She’s trying to correct him about the radio, but— “Um… no? That’s— we literally just met.” He looks at her quizzically for a second before returning to the task at hand, speaking over his shoulder with his eyes on the lock. “Me and Ren, I mean. And you. I drove you to meet Ren, we went to the convenience store and Ren’s sister bailed on the beer, and then we went to the ferry. That’s all of it.”

-

It’s an oddly familiar feeling that takes over, but this time it’s more poignant, like a fever snap. Heat blows over in a wave, and Alex pinches at the bridge of her nose, neck dipping lower so that she can just breathe for a second. Something has her in a strangle-hold, and it isn’t normal. Then again, when was this night ever going to be normal. There’s something she wanted to make light of, some joke she had when he was going to open the door, but instead there’s this repetitive thrum that is just barely quiet enough to keep her from taking a spill onto hard metal. But it’s enough to make her sit down and clutch at the sides of her head, to pull the beanie lower, to try and drown in smoke and oak resin before the smell of the ocean takes over.

 _Soldier._  
_Sleepy. Time. Gal._  
_Kills._  
_No. Help._  
_No. One._  
_Kill. Soldier._  
_Live. With us._  
_Sunken._

-

There’s a soft click, and when he turns the knob the door swings open. “And voila. I’ll look for-”

He turns back to Alex and his heart leaps into his throat. “Jesus- fuck-” It’s the thing again. Like in the cave. Red light pouring from her eyes, looking like she’s maybe about to have a seizure or something. He’s immediately on his knees next to her because _what the fuck_ , and pushing her hands away from her face, feeling her forehead (like that can possibly help anything— what is he doing? He knows nothing!) and cupping her face with his palms. “Alex- Alex, can you— are you—” That sound of strain issues from his throat again because _seriously, what the absolute fuck,_ but he’s trying his best. “Is this— C’mon Alex, come back to me.” What the hell else is he supposed to do?

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/186504294825/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was fast, huh? Betcha didn't think anyone was gonna come back to this. Tis the curse of recent fics- Going through the beginning and then realizing there isn't an end. But we assure you- There is! Alex and Jonas have only just started what is going to be a very trying, emotional, and completely self-indulgent journey. On this note: Thanks a whole bunch for getting through chapter two. We're still breaking up the last bits of this, and we're not entirely sure how long this fic will be once it's all over, but if you can speed-read through your average book you'll probably be fine. Probably.
> 
> -Hammie
> 
> Hey, guess what? This girl finally finished a fic for once in her life (excluding epilogue, which is in the works). You heard me: this story is COMPLETE. And will be POSTED in its ENTIRETY. (All the thanks to Hammie, who is a speed demon.) Also: it was written in like... a week? Wtf. The inspiration was strong, I suppose. In any case: we'd love to hear anyone's reactions as the story progresses (emojis encouraged), and are happy to answer any questions as well. Hope you stick around, 'cause this is gonna be a wild ride.  
> -OWT


	3. Chapter 3

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/186536800020/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**THREE**  


She wants them to go away. She wants _it_ to go away, whatever it is, if she could give it a name. Jonas’s voice sounds so far off, like she’s in the middle of a lake underwater and he’s standing on the shore shouting at her. But she hears him. Alex can still hear him. In an almost desperate way, she nods, for the lack of a voice. They’ve taken it from her. The color of her eyes matches the blood gushing from the back of her head, and it’s gone from a slow trickle to a good amount almost falling from the wound in chunks. A shaking hand goes to hold onto it, trying to keep anything from getting onto Jonas’s clothes. He’ll probably kill her if she ruins them, and she doesn’t want to, anyways.

When that isn’t enough, when she’s too panicked to think straight, her other hand jumps up to wrap around the one on her cheek. It’s something like an anchor, at least, and she tries to lean her head forward just to do something, but it doesn’t seem like her body is her own. They’re still inside her head. Alex doesn’t realize she’s crying. Big, overwhelmed tears that stem from her lashes and stream down her face, because she doesn’t want to ruin her stepbrother’s jacket, and she doesn’t want to end up as whatever a Sunken is, and she certainly doesn’t want to fucking kill him. It’s just that she doesn’t understand.

 _ Kill. Sleepy Time. Gal._  
_Become one._  
_Soldier. Is a pawn._ _  
_ _You. Are the. Root._

“Stop it, st-” She can feel her own teeth chattering. “I, I don’t, no!”

-

Jonas and his dad aren’t particularly affectionate. They love each other, yeah, but… well, never been much for hugs. And since his mom died, there just… hasn’t been a lot of physical contact. Probably one of the reasons why her grabbing his hand like that - like there’s some weight to it - feels like a big deal. Well, that and the crying. The crying is definitely a big deal.

“Alex, if Grace finds out I made you cry within hours of meeting you, I’ll never be forgiven.” He’s trying to joke, trying to distract her, but that’s just— it’s not gonna happen. There’s more blood. Where the fuck is it coming from, even? There can’t be _that much_ from that cut, right? When her hand shifts and he spots it glistening, the blood like something too slick and too sticky all at once, he’s shaken. “I’ll— just a—”

Scrambling to his feet (and it feels bad to pull his hand away, he feels guilty for it immediately) he stumbles into the comm tower’s booth and frantically looks around for a first aid kit. It has to be _somewhere_. He’s drawn to the blinking light on the radio more for convenience than anything. Sure, okay, he’ll start there.

There’s nothing on the wall - even though there’s definitely a place one _should_ be - so he goes for the cabinet. It’s all wires and— he pushes some out of the way, feels his fingers knock a switch, and the feedback is instantaneous.

“Shit shit _shit-_ ” Back on his feet he tries to find a button to make it stop, the screeching whine way too much for him to handle right now. Everything that’s happening is way too much for him to handle right now. But he’ll handle it. It’s not like he has a choice. Switches click and buzz and the feedback is still going, like an alarm, but fuck how does he make it—

Finally. The echo of feedback is replaced by static, and it’s such a relief. Until the voices.

It sounds… kind of like Clarissa, if she were using a really crappy voice modulator. _ Come die with us. Again… and again… _ He shakes his head and it’s like he’s underwater, too deep, the pressure. His ears pop, and he reaches for the dial because _fuck that noise_ honestly, he’s not ready to be threatened by someone who knows nothing about him and likes to spend her time dredging up painful memories in others.

The next voice on the radio isn’t Clarissa - it’s not even whatever was speaking in the cave. It’s just uncannily human, like he’s unwittingly listening in on some broadcast straight out of the 40s.

Welcome back, Soldier!

It’s… well it’s really fuckin’ creepy, to be honest. Creepier when there’s a humming coming from where he left Alex, like machinery booting up, or a frequency tuning higher and higher.

-

Alex is somewhere else. Her body may be moving, and she may have pulled herself onto her feet to lean on the door frame, eyes heavy-lidded when she fixes them on Jonas; but she isn’t there. It’s evident in her grin. He’s seen it before, the crooked little notch, the wild look it gives her. This one is straight, smooth, and it’s like watching something out of a horror movie when Alex giggles at him, picks herself up off of her leaning post, and stands like she isn’t meant to even be alive.

“You’ve had a long day at sea, haven’t you? Facing down the German Nazi menace, only to come right back home and into my arms!” She sounds too cheery. Her voice has all the static of an old radio film, gurgling out of her throat like a serpent coiled inside a tin can. With the words, Alex’s arms fling open wide, like she’s welcoming him to a party meant just for the two of them. “C’mon and gimme some sugar.” There isn’t anything normal about her anymore.

Bright red eyes peek out from underneath his beanie, and there’s red all over her, from where it had started on the back of her neck to the very tips of her sneakers where it must have dribbled down and soaked into the fabric, a stain that won’t ever come out. The blood keeps flowing as she moves, grinning, to wrap Jonas up into a sticky-slick embrace. Obviously, this isn’t Alex. Even more obviously, the voices are coming from two places at once now. Her mouth, and the speakers in Harden Tower. For all he knows, they could be echoing all throughout the island on the system of radio stations set up there, with the broadcasting turned on. She leaves handprints on the small of his back, his arms, his face, and she’s cooing with that sickly glow in her eyes dimmed down enough to see her pupils. Stark white beads in a sea of red.

-

That— That’s just wrong. So wrong. He takes a step back, but the exit is the other way, and- as much as he wants to leave, he’s like 75% sure there’s still an Alex in there under… whatever the hell this thing is that’s speaking. His arms are staunchly at his sides, and he stiffens when she throws her arms around him. “Jesus Christ-” What the fuck what the fuck, he’s gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack, oh my god. He’s not a horror movie person. Guessing by the DVDs scattered around Alex’s living room TV, she is. But this? This is not his bag. At all.

-

All of this screams ‘not Alex’ in so many different ways, it’s hard to ignore. “Oh, when I heard someone say a sub sunk, I just got  _ so scared, _ pumpkin! Scared you wouldn’t join me for tea again, or go swimming with me… But that’s all past now!”

-

She’s _in_ there, he knows she’s in there, and— he really really needs her right now. He can’t do this alone. “Alex-” There’s something broken in his voice, and he grits his teeth. Can’t be broken. Can’t. Not now. Not tonight. Her hands are hot and wet as they turn his face to hers and he’s trying to focus on breathing like a normal human being when her eyes are just about to blind him. He lifts his hands, to finally push her away, push that _thing_ away, and he feels it.

The radio.

Well, it got them into this mess…

He tugs it out of her pocket again, stumbles back, getting some space between them as he flips the switch, frantically searching for the frequency that can stop this.

-

“Shug? Honbun, what’re you doing?” The voice is more angry now. A low hissing. But there’s something in the back, underneath the surface urging him on. It isn’t loud enough to hear, and it might just be a feeling, it might just be some hopeful idea, but it’s there and it grows when he hits different frequencies. First it’s 93.5, and the thing screams at him when it’s lifted off of the ground and into the air, a beacon in the middle of the room. All of the lights in the tower are flickering angrily, and more blood pours from the wound, but a voice - _Alex’s_ voice - is there now. It’s urgent, incessant, and it’s there. “Keep going, Jonas. Keep going. Don’t stop until I hit the ground, okay? You got this. I know you do.”

The second frequency is 100. Whatever has a hold of her screeches in agony, tries to twist and writhe out of the grasp Jonas’s radio has on it, but that only serves to aid the process. The longer it fights, the weaker it gets. Sickly pops fill the air, and there are bones popping out of her skin, muscles that she didn’t even know she had twitching and snagging on them, like a meat grinder with a whole cow put in it alive. Red splatters onto the light fixtures, the floor, Jonas— And she’s still wailing. They’re giving up more of her now, in an attempt to make him pause, because he can’t hurt _her_ now, can he? No, no he can’t. Not Alex.

The final frequency is eighty six. Her eyes white out completely, and the triangle formed above her head thrums and pulses with an unearthly energy, before everything stops. It’s like a recorder pulls backward, and she can feel herself moving, she can feel the awkward, reversed movement in her bones, but they keep chattering along.

It only stops once they reach the moment when Jonas has unlocked the door.

Her crooked grin is back. “Oh, my hero. Thanks, Soldier.”

-

It’s not exactly what it was before. It’s close, but— but he’s staring at her, even as the door swings open behind him. “Alex…” He’s hoarse, like something in him was doing the screaming he was too busy to do. “Are…” She looks fine. She looks better than she did before. No blood, not anywhere, and he grabs a hand roughly and checks it and there isn’t even a bit of blood under her fingernails. And he’s remembering again. Remembering that— This? It’s happened before. A lot of it.

He already knows what’s gonna be there when he turns, but he does it anyway, just to confirm. It’s staring at him, beat up and worn, dog-eared for the first chunk and all markings towards the end hidden between its pages. He swallows hard. And he knows it hits him like this every time. And he knows what will happen if he goes near it, and he knows what will happen if he walks away, but he tries it anyway.

-

Her eyebrows furrow a bit when Jonas starts inspecting her hands, but before she can properly say anything he’s halfway down the steps again. Alex opens her mouth to ask what the matter is, to see if there’s anything she can do, when-

“Oh, my hero. Thanks, Sol-” She just said that. Her lips slowly close on the mangled word, and she watches Jonas rise again, her smile falling. On instinct, her hand goes to feel for the radio, still tucked into his jacket pocket. Her radio. The one Ren had told her to bring so he could show Jonas all of the spooky scary skeletons in the closet to her new stepbrother. There’s a tape recorder in the tower. She remembers that, too. When she sprints over to the stairs, there’s one perched just at the end of them, and running across the platform the other rests just by an open window she could have used to get in, if she hadn’t waited for his lockpicking trick.

Alex remembers this. She doesn’t recall what happened before it. Slowly, she enters the tower’s main room, and steps directly onto a paperback book that she nearly slips on. But instead, she catches herself on Jonas’s shoulder, wobbling just a bit before she can pick the thing up. “ _…Slaughterhouse-Five?_ Sounds like some crappy nineties horror movie. Know anything about it?” If it isn’t from her own memories, it must be from his. Just like how the tape played his mom’s song. The tapes- She has to rewind them, to set it in motion again. Gently, like broken glass might pop at her, Alex places the radio into the other pocket of Jonas’s loaned jacket.

-

That was quick. She usually takes a couple rounds to realize something’s off. He wants to think that this bodes well, but he’s not optimistic. He grabs her by the arm as she falls, wincing not from any pain on his part but just the memory. With a small huff of breath, knowing there’s no other way to get past this, he takes the book from her hands. “Yeah, it’s…” _It’s mine._ He taps the name on the cover. “Vonnegut. It’s a classic. You didn’t have to read it yet?”

He thinks he finished it, but doesn’t remember. What he does remember is the steady beeping in the hospital room and his mom tapping the cover and watching her meters and giving him that look, that darkly humorous, quietly resigned look. _“So it goes.”_

-

When she walks up to the first recorder, it hums, almost like it’s happy to see her. She starts turning.

-

Shit. Jonas rubs a hand against his forehead, trying to clear his head. “It’s… weird.” It was during that quarter that everything just… went to pieces. His mom was barely conscious most of the time, and when she was she was sick, and then Timmy fucking Finster and the hearing and everything just… He hangs his head. It’s a lot, to think about.

He flips to the first dog-eared page, but he’s lost. Like he ever understood it to begin with. _“You think I’m some kind of slacker idiot, right?”_ Shit, where did that—

He glances up from the book, and she’s already got the wheel turning, and then there’s music coming from somewhere and— “Do the other one.” It’s giving him a headache - _again_ \- and he thinks the first thing he should look for in that first aid kit, once they patch her up, is some ibuprofen, 'cause this is going to be a problem for the next 4-6 hours, but he’s not gonna do the radio again. Not after whatever the hell just happened with Alex.

-

“Jonas, I-” She pauses in whatever she was originally going to say when he mentions the first portion. Some kind of slacker idiot. He hadn’t said it, but it’s something else she remembers. Maybe that was from when they were going down to the town again, to find the new radios, to get off of the island. None of this is supposed to be happening now. It’s all jumbled. Sure, these loops were normally jumbled until she reset them, but that isn’t what this is about at the moment. Once she’s sure the music is playing at the right speed, with its odd clips in the middle, Alex makes her way back over to him.

It’s so terribly gentle when she wraps an arm around him. And this time it isn’t because she’s possessed, it isn’t because she needs something to ground her, but Jonas needs someone. So she’s going to be that. Alex closes the book, sets it off to the side, and bumps her head against his. Almost like a cat. She used to do that with Michael. Michael doesn’t need her anymore. He does now. “You aren’t just some slacker, you know that, right? When your mom went… You had more right to be angry about it than anyone. Especially when that dickhead tried to make light of it. I don’t blame you for beating him, I don’t blame you for the juvie sentence, and I certainly don’t think you’re some kind of burden or weird roommate.” A knowing smile breaks across Alex’s face. Too knowing. “You’re my friend. You’re one of the most talented, caring people I know.”

And then she almost ruins it, with another maybe-a-bit-too-hard headbutt, and a scuffle to his hair. Just enough to get it to stand up when she pets it. “My garbage snowman who always eats all the peanut butter.”

With that, she starts for the second tape recorder.

-

Ag. Affection. How to affection. He just kind of stands awkwardly as she sort of snuggles up next to him. His face is hot, mostly out of embarrassment, not used to having people be so close. His head is spinning a little bit, and he feels really weird about something but he’s not sure why, and he fidgets, shifting foot to foot in her hold.

At first it’s just weird. Kind of comforting? But mostly weird. But as she keeps talking, his brows draw together. “Wait we— that hasn’t happened yet,” he’s murmuring it mostly to himself as she winds the tape recorder, and his hand absently tousles his hair back into position. “Wait Alex, that hasn’t-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This whole fic is… complete? The epilogue is immense, and basically two parts, but y'know what? I'm not mad about it. I may possibly start crying about it, but I'm definitely not mad. This whole thing has been a _journey_ , really.  
> \- OWT
> 
> WE FINISHED!!! WE DID IT!!! As of now, at roughly two AM, we've completed both this entire fic and the epilogue is finished. It's kind of insane, the fact that this was all done in about eight days, which means we'll move on to more of stuff like this! But we do kinda need support. So keep comin back and reading!
> 
> \- Hammie


	4. Chapter 4

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/186588765755/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**FOUR**

Jonas is rubbing his forehead. “Christ… I just had… the weirdest deja vu.” He shakes his head, muttering, “If you can even call it that.”

The phone rings, and Jonas just about jumps out of his skin. “Jesus.” That’s weird. Wait, when did he give Alex his jacket? No, okay, she cut her head, that— that happened, he thinks. Urgh, why is it all mixing up?

-

She jumps right along with him. Ren’s in the microphone, and she can’t quite tell what he’s saying yet, but it sounds panicky. Then again, that’s kind of always what Ren sounds like. Alex’s hand is on the receiver before she can think about it, trying to get through to him, but everything is a little bit too garbled. Clarissa cuts in. They’re both arguing, but it doesn’t seem like they can hear each other- Just her panicked, confused words as she makes out their locations. Then, the backlog stops.

Towhee Woods.

Fort Milner.

One choice.

“...You have got to be _fucking_ kidding me.”

-

Jonas shifts foot to foot, feeling oddly bored, kind of detached, though her comment raises a small wry smile to his lips. He’ll end up following her either way. “Look, I’m gonna leave it up to you. We can swing through the forest and grab Ren, or we can go to the fort and see what Clarissa’s up to. They’re your people. You can decide.”

His wandering eyes catch the edge of a first aid kid peeking out behind a desk. “Oh, hey.” In a couple easy steps he’s shifting his weight to sit on the surface, opening the box and poking through like maybe he’ll be able to figure out how any of this works. “C’mere,” he gestures to her as he looks through, finding some antiseptic and bandages at the very least. There’s a needle and thread, but the only thing he knows how to sew is a button, and that doesn’t feel relevant. He gestures to the spot between his knees, turning his finger in a circle to indicate she should turn around so he can see the back of her head.

-

She mutters something along the lines of being fine, and not feeling anything anymore, but none the less she settles herself in between his legs, huffing like a petulant child. Alex doesn’t need tending to. It’s always Ren, or Nona, the person who nearly slips. Never her. But it was a bit of a nasty fall she’d taken in the cave, and even though she barely remembers it, Jonas seems a whole lot more shaken than she is.

Well, if it will help… Finally she takes off Jonas’s beanie, wringing it together in her hands. There isn’t any blood. There should be at least a splotch of the stuff, she’d felt that cut, it was pretty fucking deep. Alex presses her hands to her head, and there’s still an onset of pain, a wave of heat that makes her nauseous, but when she pulls away again... still no blood.

Gently, she pulls her hair up. “I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, Soldier, but… it feels like there isn’t anything.” Blind, Alex grabs Jonas’s wrist, and leads his hand toward where red should be staining her oceanic hair a purple hue. Only scar tissue, and that lingering pain.

-

Jonas frowns as his fingers run over her scalp, feeling (gently) for broken skin. “I’m not imagining this, right? You were—” dripping with the stuff, a moment ago. “—There was some blood.” The nickname grates on him. It’s like being called Killer. There’s a weight to that name. But he ignores it. Or tries to. “Seriously, how does something like that heal up in-” he checks his watch, does some quick math, “An hour-ish?” That didn’t feel right, either. He feels like he’s been here for ages. He supposes a wound like that might be able to heal up on its own given enough time, but that didn’t happen.

“I mean, excuse my French, but what the fuck.” He’s probably a little too close for comfort, to be honest, but it’s really confusing to have seen the blood - and seen _too much_ of it - only to have no wound be present. And he’s— well, he’s pretty sure there was— Everything is kind of everywhere at the moment. Every...when?

Jonas closes his eyes, takes a harsh breath in, holds it for a moment before letting it out again. He lets go of Alex’s shoulders. “Something weird is happening.” It feels like it’s taken ages for him to say it, but there it is.

-

“Uhm. Yeah. I’ve been saying that to you for the past twenty-ish times we’ve done this now.” Alex makes a face at him, and leans her head back against his chest. She feels too woozy to stand, but too energetic to just stop moving. And then there’s the problem of Ren and Clarissa. The redhead had sounded like she was the most in danger, with all the banging and screaming, but Ren is her best friend. Her copalhoncho. The person she’s been with since grade school.

At the rate they’re going, it feels like she’s been with Jonas twice as long. “You know,” Alex starts, tipping her head up at him, “I know there was something. I know there was blood. I remember… You had the radio, but it wasn’t yours. You took it from me. But— at the same time, I remember you bringing it to the island. To hear the ghost stories.” A pause. Her eyebrows furrow, and slowly she leans up to knock their foreheads together again. 

-

Twenty times? His head tilts back with a low groan before he catches her eye again. She’s upside down, looking like this is all old hat for her. Like she’s the expert. She probably is. He looks down at her, raises an eyebrow skeptically, then flinches as she knocks their heads together. “...Not helpful,” he mutters, but he doesn’t mind it too much.

-

“Do you think you have a loop now, too?”

-

Her question makes him think for a second. “I… don’t know. I think- well, it has to be, right? There was something, before. You were—” He looks down at her concernedly. “You weren’t good. There was a lot of blood and you had-” Memory is weird, and he’s getting pieces of something he wasn’t aware of before. “Where did you go? 'Cause when I— I’ve done it before, right? Had… whatever that was. When they got all— _ehhh_.” He makes a face. “Y’know. The red eyes and all that.” His words aren’t coming out right. But he was never good with words, anyway.

“Ugh, this is giving me a headache.” He slumps forward, resting his head on her shoulder. “Can’t we just go home?”

-

“Jonas, honestly, I wish we could. There was a time- I speedran the island. I didn’t take anyone back with me but you.” Alex holds onto one of his arms, sputtering like a horse as she tries her best to remember. Memory was always weird. She remembers more than Jonas does, but Jonas remembers more than Ren, and he remembers more than Clarissa— It’s all screwy. “The boat crashed before we made it halfway off the island. The ghosts sunk it. It was the only two loops where I-”

Alex’s voice has gotten shaky. She doesn’t really notice it, but there’s a distant look in her eyes, as she laces her fingers with his own. He’d been the thing to anchor her throughout all of the loops, all of her timelines… He was her partner in crime. All of them. “I died. The first one, I wasn’t fast enough getting the radios, and a statue - the one on the cliff - it, uhm. It collapsed. On me. Really bad. Crushed my legs.”

Oh god, not now. Not here. They still have to find everyone, they still have to get out, they’re wasting time… What does it matter. The night will reset anyways. Sometimes Alex fast-tracks through it, doesn’t even remember the life she had before.

It’s just Edwards Island over and over and over again.

-

Jonas doesn’t get everything she says. He gets about half of it. The rest makes a little more sense once he gives it some time to sink in, but even then. He doesn’t remember it like she does, and it feels like he’s missing something. Or a lot of somethings. His fingers are clenched around the edge of the table and Alex’s are looped around one of his arms, fingers making little flicking noises as they run over the folds where he’d rolled up his hoodie. She stills for a second and then her fingers slide over his and he lets her hold on. Holds on right back. She’s shaking.

It’s frustrating, to hear her talk about things he doesn’t remember. Times he doesn’t remember. Times she died. His hand holds hers tighter and he wraps his free arm around her shoulders, steadying her against his chest. He sucks in a breath, trying not to be angry, because it isn’t her fault, but these fucking ghosts are well past his last nerve. He turns toward her ear and ends up speaking practically against her neck. “Shh. It’s gonna be okay. We’ve-” He breathes in deep, sighing exhaustedly, and it’s really hard not to notice the way she smells, like the ocean spray from the ferry, and something clean and flowery and vaguely summery that reminds him of the brief tour of her house. His house? Guilt settles in his stomach. “We’ve done it before, obviously. We’ll do it again.”

Jonas doesn’t do affection. But if he did, he’s pretty sure this would be crossing a line. Like a pretty thick red line with _unacceptable_ printed in bold black letters. But maybe like he’s trying to hide his shame, he tucks his face against her back again. One more minute. He just needs one more minute of this, before it all goes to shit.

-

“Too many times,” She mumbles, “too many fucking times. I try to keep track of them. Tried.” Gently, Alex slides her left arm out of his jacket, but the one holding onto his hand stays right where it is. There are little tick marks along the skin. Some are more faded than others, and the most recent one is right at her wrist. At least a hundred or more, all scratched, like she took a pencil to a vein for the lack of having ink.

Alex lets out a sound that’s half mournful and half irritated, and her head thuds on his forearm, “The sharpie disappeared every time. The only thing that would stay was the little… Well, you can see them, Jonas. They’re all there.” She looks so desperately tired. Like this is the longest dream she’s ever had - the longest nightmare she’s ever had - in her whole life. And maybe it is. Maybe she’ll wake up tomorrow, and it will all have been in her head. But it hasn’t been yet.

She pulls the jacket back on fully, and then tighter around herself as she sinks into Jonas. His beanie is still in her lap.

-

They’re wrapped up in each other, all twined together, and part of him - a horribly selfish part - just wants to spend the whole night like this, and just ignore everything else. Screw the ghosts. Screw Ren and Nona and Clarissa. He doesn’t want another round of suffering. But she was the last one to use the radio - or the recorders, or whatever it is that’s keeping them moving through the story, beat after beat. And he thinks there’s some significance in that.

One more breath. One more, he promises himself, and then they have to go.

It’s a long breath.

Or maybe it’s more than one.

But finally he raises his head, gives her one more squeeze around the shoulders, and uncurls from where he’s been practically enveloping her. “Okay.” His jaw clenches, a new determination set, and he hops down, scooping up the discarded beanie and jamming back on his head. “Are we doing this or what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but a goodie. Those good feels, as it were. ^^ The fic has now officially been segmented up into chapters (20 + a two part epilogue of sorts), and editing is coming along nicely! Please please please drop us a comment to let us know what you think. We love this story like a weird 8-day-gestated child, and would love to hear how people feel about it. Also, just tried adding our little aesthetic collages (hyperlinked to the tumblr posts if you feel like sharing!) to the previous chapters, give us a holler and let us know if it's a good choice or not so much.  
> -OWT
> 
> Turner I know you only did that child thing because that's how long this took to write but what the actual fuck. Anywhosit- The general gist of this chapter is just "hey you're gonna get FUCKING HURT" because that was apparently our entire goal writing this fic? (Yes of course the ending is mind-rotting fluff. No I'm not gonna tell you how it ends. Read the fic.) I really hope you're enjoying the story so far! I know we're posting things a little fast but that probably just makes it better, huh? Thank you so much for any kudos, comments, or bookmarks y'all decide to leave. Love ya my dudes.
> 
> -Hammie


	5. Chapter 5

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/186661060645/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**FIVE**

Alex isn’t quite sure what made her decide on Clarissa. It might be some kind of sick idea of redemption, being there for her when Clarissa wasn’t there for her brother - her other brother - but that shouldn’t make it any better. Any easier to choose her over Ren. With Jonas at her side, they make their way down to the old military encampment, passing signs along the way. None of them are exactly welcoming, but she’s gotten used to that by now.

“Photography prohibited. Keep out.” Those aren’t ominous at all. Definitely not. Absentmindedly, she takes a hold of Jonas’s hand again, as they trudge to and fro before heading to get the door open. But she pauses at the firing range. There’s something… familiar about it, and more so than normal. Like she’s been here before. Before the loops, and the radios, before any of it. This is weird.

“So… ever fired a gun before, Soldier?” Alex squeezes Jonas’s hand. Maybe not the best time to ask, but she can do things like that now. Even if she already knows the answer.

-

It’s a visceral reaction, pulling his hand from her grasp, practically stumbling in his haste to distance himself from her. “Don’t—” He takes a deep breath, forces himself to stay calm. That was unexpected. Uncalled for, on his end. Shit. He puts his arms out like he’s calming a wild animal, like he’s promising he’s not going to hurt her - an automatic response, trying to assuage any fears that come from _juvenile delinquent anger management issues_ \+ _just made a sudden and violent move_. “Just… don’t call me that, okay? It’s— I’m not… just don’t. I won’t call you what they call you, and you don’t call me… that.”

Fuck, it’s— He rolls his shoulders back, trying to free up some of the tension that’s suddenly taken root there. It’s not like he’s the most pacifistic person in the world - he watches action movies, he’s played a hack-and-slash video game or three - but things changed after the whole juvie ordeal. Like people couldn’t look at him engaging with that sort of thing and not see him as some kind of threat. He’d never wanted to hold a gun, and he still doesn’t. He never wanted to be a soldier, either. The Soldier.

“Let’s— look, I’m gonna get that-” he’s nodding toward the tower by the facilities building, “-over and done with and we can just… move on.” He puts out a hand for the radio.

-

It’s never easy, is it? Especially not handing over the radio to him. But she does it anyways. Alex extends the antenna, flicks the thing on, and then passes it to Jonas. Her touch lingers just a little bit too long afterward. Not because she’s afraid - though she is afraid, that’s a very real thing that is happening right now - but it seems too odd. “C’mon. I remember it being… A light, or something.” There are lamps, there’s a locked door— Aha. More climbing.

The tower. It’s a beacon in the middle of the camp, and she shoots for it, slipping a bit on slick ground before finally managing to clamber up the stupid, rusting ladder and settle into a criss-cross position near the foot of the red light. It’s her turn to give up the wheel for a bit. The last time that happened, she was playing chicken with the void. Who was going to give up, how was she going to be influenced, all of that good good ghost stuff. Which Alex has learned to absolutely hate. Despite the aid of warmth from Jonas’s jacket, she zips it up, feeling a chill down her neck from a place so high up. How much could one breeze do? Sure, there might be more of a wind chill than normal because of the open space, but it still feels odd.

-

Jonas has an easier time with the ladder than she did, but she was the one who maybe did and maybe didn’t split her head open earlier tonight, so… understandable. He fidgets for a second under the only just _majorly creepy_ glowing red light. It’s his turn, and he knows that it’s just a little dial, but… well, ghosts, y’know?

“Here goes nothing?” It’s definitely more question than statement as he shoots Alex a weak smile before starting to turn the dial.

The noise right before it takes is always the worst. The climbing frequency, making his head feel too tight. He grits his teeth, but then the bulb shatters and goes out and there’s Mr. Uncanny Valley over the little handheld speaker.

Dinner time! It’s never too late to make dessert! Not anymore—

“Yup. Not creepy in the slightest…” he murmurs under his breath.

Do you want to play a game?

“No. Obviously not.” He scowls and hands the radio back to Alex. “You’d think the joke would get old after the first however many loops, right?” It’s said dryly as he climbs down the ladder again (because he’s definitely going to spot her on every ladder now, she’s got the slipperiest feet out there and he’s not gonna let her fall without a solid human-shaped pillow to take some of the damage).

-

She gives Jonas a little two fingered salute, and a too-soft smile, before climbing right down after him. But she still gives him space. She still does her best not to remember him as ‘Soldier,’ like they want her to. It’s getting harder and harder not to call him that as she goes along. Just like they call her Sleepy Time Gal. _“I won’t call you what they call you, and you don’t call me… that.”_ Alex hadn’t meant to hurt him. Really. Honest.

They trek through the grounds, spot Clarissa stealing her way into the lower level of the building and it starts to rain. Alex knows what happens next. Great. This will be great. But there are little things she notices that are a bit too off. The color of Clarissa’s hair is wrong - the same teal blue that dots her own - and there’s another figure that comes after— Was that her? Was that the shadow of another loop, of her loop? It makes her pause at the edge of the door. Yes, they need to keep going, and she knows that. They always have to keep going.

So it’s into the classroom now. She knows about the quiz, and… Oh god. This is going to be her hardest loop yet, isn’t it? Now that Jonas might have realized what they are about to do. “Look, I can’t promise anything, but… Things get a little crazy here, Jonas. As in bright red eyes crazy. Which means I might also do something stupid. Please be careful.”

-

Bright red eyes crazy… yeah. “No, I… I think I kind of remember. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” _I’ll be better than you_ , he thinks, watching her warily, too much reminded of bones creaking and just way too much blood. He can suffer a little bit of fogginess and disorientation and going… wherever he goes, if it stops that from happening again. He cracks his knuckles, then nods.

-

And then she shoves the doors open. This time, the hangman is already drawn, which means the ghosts start talking almost instantly.

Hey, kids! Wanna play a game?

“No. Never.”

Be sharp and listen, Missy! This is going to tell the Classification Board a lot about what can be expected of you in the future.  
How many questions will you be able to guess in the allotted time?

“All of them. I’ve done this about a hundred times before.”

Here’s a simple one to start, so don’t hold your breath.  
What is the name of the school you are standing in?

“US Army-”

-

“US Army Radio Communications School.” They speak it at the same time, and there’s a tiny triumphant smirk on Jonas’s lips. _Fuck you, ghosts, we know our trivia_.

He can practically hear the deadpan _really?_ in Alex’s sidelong gaze, but he just shrugs, murmurs, “What? It’s the right answer.”

The radio sounds its little ding of success.

That’s the stuff, Charlie. Now you’re swinging.  
It all goes into your final rating. You want to get a good rating, don’t you?  
You want to be a good soldier?

Shit, that— It’s like something tickling at his brain stem, shooting a jitter straight down his back. This is happening sooner than expected. “Alex,” Jonas’s voice is wary, a murmur just for her ears, “This is, um— they’re doing something.”

And they do, of course they do, and he’s a little disgusted by the relief that floods his system when it’s just their perception being messed with. There had been a second there when he thought they were altering the script. But this is at least somewhat familiar.

Just keep the pointer on the button. Question two.  
What did the communications officers at Fort Milner call codes?

“Coo— _ugh,_ ” he’s doubled over, because that was not part of the plan. It’s like- shit, is this what werewolves feel like? The thought is so absurd he actually hears himself laugh, one short desperate gasp of it, but that’s about all he can think of 'cause it’s like something is burrowing into his spinal column and sending little needles into every nerve. He shakes his head, like he can toss it off or something, but— well, it’s pointless. He knew that going in.

The pain, the itchiness of it, the pins-and-needles feeling through his limbs; that, he can handle. But the thing that makes his blood run cold is the creeping feeling at the back of his skull, a numbness, a blessed relief that is the primary definition of too good to be true, lulling him into stillness, sinking him down to the bottom of the ocean.

“Alexandra.” He’s smiling, but there’s little to no humor in it. Instead it’s something shrewd and vicious and cunning. “We know you’re in charge, and we know your plan, and we also know that your plan won’t work. ...It never does.” His head jerks to the side a moment, a twitch, and his teeth are tight closed with that smile that’s practically a grimace. “So we have a proposition for you.” Like it’s shrugging off the interference, the not-Jonas seems to relax into routine, his voice too smooth, too in control— almost sickly sweet. “A deal. A bargain, really. And you should take it.”

-

“Cookies!” The word jumps out of her like it will still help. Alex backs away like a scared animal when she notices the red in his eyes, and then chides herself for being a coward, before sharp pain reminds her of something. This isn’t supposed to happen until they actually have Clarissa. Once they’re trying to find out how to get into the whole doomsday machine, or bunker, or whatever people are calling it now. “You call your codes cookies, now let him go. I’m not giving you Clarissa, so you can fuck the hell right off!”

Alex’s voice isn’t shaking in fear, oh no; it’s in anger. She’s seen this too many times, dealt with this too many times, replayed this moment too many goddamn times and she is sick and fucking tired of it. There isn’t even a reason she keeps going anymore, with sheer spite driving her on like some kind of cattle prod, slamming into her heart every time someone else goes under. So she grabs a globe. It isn’t raised, but she has it in her hands, for— for something. To defend herself? To try and fight off what isn’t there? She doesn’t even know anymore.

“You’re not turning him into a Soldier! I’m not your Sleepy Time Gal!” It used to be, she kept going for Ren. For Jonas. For the people that she had to keep safe. And, of course, she still does. Who would she be if she gave up her friends? (Even if she’s done it more than once.) But things are out of place this loop. Things are so, indefinitely wrong this loop, she can barely comprehend it herself.

There’s a dripping sound in the back of her head. The globe stays at her side, and gently she touches her hair. Wet. Alex’s hand jerks back, and when she spots that sticky red, her anger only grows.

“What are you doing to me? What are you doing to _him?_ **_Answer me!_** _”_

-

“What, you don’t even want to hear our offer? It’s a good one. Practically no consequence.” Their smile has a touch of malicious glee to it. “Like skipping back one day, and you can go about your business. All of you.” Not-Jonas looks down at himself, straightens the hem of his hoodie. “Nice broad shoulders. Enough to carry us all, we think.” It hardly gives her a second to consider it before they go on. “The new kid never showed up. You get your  _ real _ brother back… a simple choice, really. It’s not like anyone will miss him. Not if they never met him in the first place.”

He cocks his head, as though he’s just now seeing her. “Oh. How sweet. Replacing the real one already.” The red glow of his eyes are like a scanner working over Jonas’s jacket on her smaller frame. “But we should be honest with each other, Alexandra. You don’t  _ really _ want a new brother, do you?” There’s a weight to the words, hinting at some ulterior motive on her part. “What did your friend say?  _ ‘A strapping young lad?’_”

-

Her face is flushed, and she doesn’t really know why. It could be the heat in her head, the fact that her heart rate has to be kicked up to eleven by now, or that they want Jonas. They want _Jonas._ Alex’s expression twists from anger, to something like embarrassment, to shame, and then right back again. She swallows the knot forming up in her throat. “No.” It’s all she can think to utter at whatever not-Jonas is proposing. Giving him up to the ghosts. Not remembering anything. It should be easy for people. It would be easy for Clarissa, for Nona, even for Ren - for anybody else. But it isn’t. Why are things never simple?

“You can’t. You can’t have him.” They’re right. She isn’t trying to replace her brother - God, she could never replace Michael, he was— he was Michael. The one of a kind all star older brother that was never beaten in a fight, when he needed to get into one, and the person she told absolutely everything. There weren’t any secrets, there were barely any fights, the bond between them was too strong. Just like it had ended up with herself and her new brother-not-brother. He isn’t Michael, she knows he isn’t, but he is Jonas. He is hers, all the same. Alex raises her globe. “You can’t have him!”

-

“‘We can’t have him?’ This is a courtesy offer, Alexandra.” Something digs into the cut on her skull. “We have our way in. And every will gives eventually.  _ You _ gave, eventually.” It’s unclear if that’s a threat or a fact, if it happened already or not. “By all means, keep up your charade. Dance your little dances, pretend anything you do here makes a difference.” It’s almost saintly, the smile on his face as he moves toward her. “Batter this body all you want, we’re sure he can take it. And if that’s what you need to exercise your…  _ frustration… _ then so be it.”

-

Alex lets out a shriek of pain when her gash grows. She can feel hair being pulled back, like someone took a rope and just tugged, before stabbing an ice pick into the center of her brain. Frustration. Is that what they’re calling this, their whole game, this— frustration? No. No it isn’t about the game. Despite her shaking hands, the fear on her face, she doesn’t let go of that globe. She backs away until her spine hits the wall, drawing a yelp, head twisting frantically this way and that to try and find something to use.

-

Its eyes - his eyes - blink, but it’s not the way it should be. One blinks slower than the other. One slips out of red light, into something a hell of a lot more human and a hell of a lot more _Jonas_. He grins. “Do your worst.”

-

The radio. It’s all the way across the room. Alex hadn’t even realized she’d dropped it. Just underneath the first written answer, _US Army Radio Communication School,_ nestled between the pile of chalk and erasers and the wall. God, God, what is it that Jonas does to calm himself down? What is it that just clicks, when he needs it to, what kind of training did he… Oh.

Maybe she doesn’t have to calm down at all. Maybe she just has to use what’s available to her.

Despite the blood running down her back, despite the fear laced over her expression, Alex drops the globe. It rolls under a desk somewhere, she doesn’t care anymore, and finally she takes a step forward. Her hands linger on his forearms, his biceps, before they come to rest right on the edge of his jawline. “A perfect performance, Soldier. Three out of three.”

-

His head jolts again, that violent twitch, like a machine short-circuiting. “This-” There’s almost a slur to their words, but the smirk remains in place. “This is-” Twitch. “-cute.” His back arches, like something is fighting to get out. “But fruitless.”

It’s visible, the second they crack the whip. And it’s _visceral_ , because Jonas is on the floor and the noises are human now, but _too_ human. He’s sucking tight gasps through clenched teeth, a sort of guttural whimper shaking its way through him. “Get-” He barely manages a word before there’s a resounding snap.

It’s not the first time they’ve faked a death. But they let it go on. And on. His neck at an impossible angle, the red of the eyes flickering intermittently. It’s taunting her. Keeping him looking human for longer and longer, until that’s just his eyes— _his_ eyes, on a tortured corpse.

-

It’s so fucking hard to keep cool. She remains where she is, rooted to her spot on the floor, though she follows Jonas down. Tries to make the situation at least a little less hurtful. Alex knows she can’t really do anything, they have a hold of him now, and they will for a while. The radio is still too far away to reach, but it doesn’t matter. There’s a different plan in action now. Gently, Alex twists his neck back, and it still isn’t quite right - which nearly makes her gag - but it’s better than nothing.

“You didn’t let me finish, Soldier.” Her thumbs run along his cheeks. His eyes are too human, all of it is too human, and she feels absolutely horrible that she isn’t doing anything else to help. “I just wanted to change the deal a bit. Only a little. What… What if, maybe, he could stay mine? One little peace offering, from the Sleepy Time Gal.” Alex presses her forehead to his, and it’s a familiar butting gesture, as she cups his face and tries not to start crying. “From your old friend. An old plaything.”

-

There’s a sickening cracking noise. The eyes flicker red, a grin flashing on his face, before fading, eyes closing, face gone slack.

-

It isn’t a response he earns verbally. For a few moments, she’s just staring at him, feeling over his neck like it’s still popped out of its socket, swinging a leg over his middle to better see if there’s lasting damage. To see if the deal has worked - if she’s actually going to take that deal - but there is still a chance. They haven’t crept their way that far into her mind yet. Have they? No. No, they can’t have, she’s only been away from the radio three times. That can’t have done much.

Once Alex is satisfied that no, he isn’t dead, and yes, Jonas is still very much breathing, it’s like a dam breaks. Her eyes well up, cloud, then the tears start to fall. They roll off of her face and onto his own, before she buries her face into his chest and just sobs. There hasn’t been a reaction like this before. She’s cried, screamed in agony, so many moments where it feels like nothing is right and she just can’t anymore. But they’ve never felt as real as this. As true as this. The realization that Jonas is still around for her. There’s words coming out, but they’re all garbled and broken and wrong, with hiccups in the middle.

There is no way she’s letting go of him again tonight.

-

He comes awake with a groan from the bottom of his soul, brows furrowing over closed eyes and mouth pulling in a grimace. He’s starfished out on the ground and doesn’t even try to move. “Jesus fucking Christ.” His breath is shallow, like trying to breath through cracked ribs. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.” His head is a mishmash of oceans and red light and - Christ - _pain_. Someone is on top of him and it takes all of a millisecond for him to blindly determine it’s Alex. His face is wet. Why is his face wet? “Ow.”

His arms wrap around the sobbing creature (again, this has to be Alex, it’s like a sixth sense) without thinking, and he winces. “Seriously, ow, Alex. I know you’re upset but this is hurting me.” He finally manages to open eyelids that felt weighed down with cement. The classroom. Okay, well, they haven’t magi-fied them somewhere else, at least. He can’t raise his head, but rolls it sideways a bit to glance down at his chest. Something is clamping onto his throat, seeing her absolutely broken. “Hey, no-” Ow. Ow ow ow. It hurts, but he can’t exactly stop himself from holding her a little tighter. “No, we’re— I’m okay. We’re okay.”

-

Jonas is talking, and she can’t quite hear the words over herself, but it’s something about pain. All at once she shifts most of her body weight off of him and onto another knee with a heaving apology, and she just can’t stop crying, because it’s all too much. The ghosts had been right. They’d been right, and she knew they were, and Alex just… keeps apologizing. For dropping the radio, for being too scared to do anything she was supposed to do, for being everything that he’s ever thought of himself. A slacker idiot failure that’s too dumb to care. “May- Maybe if I- I’d just been, just a— a li- a little bit, bit faster, I—”

-

She’s a bit of a blubbering mess. That’s okay. Jonas rolls his ankles, shifts his knees, his hips, arching his back for a second, unintentionally bucking her off a bit, and there are a number of audible pops of his joints. “Yep,” he mutters, “Yep, that’s— that smarts.” But the stretching out is doing him good, 'cause hey, he’s in one piece, that’s useful information. And the pain is starting to fade.

-

When she lifts her head, it’s twisted like some kind of broken sculpture, and finally he can see it in her eyes that she’s gone on too long. That she just can’t do this anymore. She wants to give up. She just wants to lay down and see what happens for the next few loops, like keeping herself upright is just a challenge all on its own. Alex is so, so tired. Unbearably so. And that’s when she says it. Because she doesn’t know if she’ll get another chance.

“I love you, Jonas.”

-

He shouldn’t have met her eyes. This was— shit. That was... “I, um…” His heart is suddenly beating in his ears, and he blinks. “...Thank you.” It’s the lamest response possible. His jaw tightens because how the hell does he respond to that? How the hell... “I…” The words are out of his mouth like a reflex, and the worst thing about them is that they’re kind of true; “You’re a good sister, Alex.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

As if to make up for it, he tightens his hold on her - flexing his shoulders back for a second, fixing that last crick in his joints - and tucks his head into her hair. He’s an idiot. An absolute idiot. Like it would've been that hard to say he loved her. Of course he loved her. _Loves_ her. They’ve been through— well, he only remembers some of it, but it doesn’t make it untrue. They’ve been through hell. And stuck with each other. But his stupid head had to latch on to that word, twist it to mean something else, and god he really can’t say that, can he? Because when this is all over, that’s just… bad. It’s bad, and he’s bad, and fuck he’s really put his foot in it.

-

It takes longer than she likes to calm the hell down. Alex just has to breathe and let it pass, even though she’s latched onto Jonas the entire time, before finally coming down off of it like some kind of weird high. But once she does, the exhaustion sinks into her bones, like the chill from the tower. She can tell it isn’t going to leave anytime soon. Gently, she picks herself up off of the ground, wobbling as she moves over to the radio and plucks it off of the floorboards once she’s kicked the stray chalk away. Then she does the same thing for Jonas; bends down, loops an arm over her shoulders, and steadies him. More than she’d like to admit.

-

He accepts her help onto his feet, but then rolls her grip off his shoulders, stands up straight. Stretches some more. He’s not sure if he just slept for an hour or ran a mile. Some mix of the two. He catches her concerned glance and is quick to reassure her. “Really. I’m okay— it’s- it’s like a second wind. ...Up and at ‘em, and all that.”

-

There isn’t a good way to tell him about the deal, and so she won’t. Not yet. Not now. Besides, it’ll all reset anyways. Alex has given herself up before. She’s stayed in the Sunken with them and theirs. Just to seal them off. She can do it again. Just one more run-through, one more collapse, and maybe it will end better for everyone else. Maybe. It hurts more than she’s willing to admit when he shrugs her arm off, acts tough, and she knows it’s all for her sake. But he shouldn’t be the one being brave all the time. That’s exhausting, it causes burnout, and Alex knows this for a fact; even if she still doesn’t stop him. She holds onto his hand, and it’s enough. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Clarissa will be out there. She’ll be worse than he was. They’re taking a stand now. She doesn’t like that.

-

He feels kinda stupid, holding her hand. Not because— just because of what he said. Because he sounded like an idiot. “On to Clarissa?” And he’s letting her drag him along, keeping up, trying to ignore the fact that his palms are starting to sweat. “I’ll spot.” He nods to the ladder, once more planted to be the human crash pad.

The radio comes on and it’s that Clarissa-that-isn’t-Clarissa.

Clarissa is... asleep right now. Be still so as not to wake her.  


“Well. Dramatic bastards.” He shoots Alex a weak smile.

-

“They always have been one for theatrics.” It’s almost worse when he doesn’t get a smile back. Only a dead kind of look, and a worried twitch of the lips, before she tugs him up the ladder along with her and opens the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright I don't know what I can really write for this? We've been churning these out like butter my dudes, so sorry for the mild delay of my own procrastination. I suppose this is just another thank you! Both for the interest in our work, and the continued support as we work our way through this, so we're gonna keep truckin until it's finished! Which, y'know, it technically is. Just not open to the public right now. See y'all on the other side.
> 
> -Hammie
> 
> There’s another! And another fun mood board as well 😁 As always, looking for feedback (what worked? what didn’t?) and I’d love to hear any predictions or theories you guys have. What did you think of possessed Jonas, huh? Very fun to write imo, I’m very curious about your reactions! Shoot us a comment, ask us a question; I love reading and replying to each and every one.  
> -OWT


	6. Chapter 6

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/186756461545/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**SIX**

Clarissa is facing away from them, at first, but that doesn’t last long. Technically, her body is still facing away from them, but her head turns like an owl’s with a horrid squelch that seems to echo in the silence of the room. Alex draws a sharp intake of breath. So it is going to be different. “Clarissa, hey… Wake up.” It’s flat. Quiet.

 _Sleepy. Time Gal._  
_You came._  
_We thought. We’d seen the last._

With the hawk-like look in her eyes, and the scimitar smile on her face, Clarissa looks like more of a bitch than she usually is. Alex is reminded of why she left her on so many loops. For some reason, that still hurts. That she would betray someone like that. “You sure as hell haven’t, assholes. You’re not getting away with what you did to Jonas.”

 _We did. Nothing._  
_You chose. The path he walks._  
_Just as you chose. Your own._  
_You. Are ours now._  
_He. Is still. Free._  
_You. Cannot. Have._  
_Him._

The odd speech seems to try her for a moment. Clarissa’s arm bends back, snaps out of place, and her wrist dislocates as she points toward Jonas’s chest. The smile never fades. She has to be in so much pain.

 _He. Will remain._  
_You. You want._  
_Him._  
_You cannot have. Him._  
_The Soldier. Walks alone._  
_His gal. Is gone._  
_Gone gone._

Her last few words are sing-song in nature.

-

He let go of her hand to let them both climb, but as soon as the weird multi-voiced thing inside Clarissa starts talking ownership? As soon as he hears _you are ours now?_ Jonas’s fingers reach for Alex’s automatically. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Clarissa - he’s not so stupid as to let this thing out of his sight - but his head tilts, turning slightly toward Alex.

“What are they talking about?” It’s not quite under his breath, but it’s definitely meant for her ears only. He’s trying to shift, to maneuver a little in front of Alex, angle so he can get in front if needed. _The Soldier_. His lip curls in response to the name.

-

One of the older girl’s legs crumples up underneath her, bent out of shape like a bad origami piece, and Alex can still hear the bones caving underneath all that pressure. It’s like— at the bottom of an ocean. When those too-little-too-late diving suits were just being invented.

-

Jonas winces at the way her body folds on itself like so much bent paper. It makes his skin crawl. “Well that’s… not right.” It’s barely breathed out of him, and he’s tensing, shifting, his heart rate speeding up because he _knows_ something’s coming, even if he doesn’t _know_ something’s coming. The Sunken are dramatic bitches, and they’ve built up quite the tension.

-

 _Thank you. For. This noble._  
_Sacrifice._  
_In the name of. Love._  
_Alexandra._  
_You love. Him._  
_Don’t. You?_

-

He thinks he can feel the pressure change in the air. The words drop from Clarissa’s lips in a way that doesn’t quite fit, like a ventriloquist moving its puppet’s mouth. _You love. Him._ It’s like he’s on their wavelength, like he’s tuned in to their frequency, and he feels it coming.

-

Her entire body is sucked up into a square within seconds. And then she bursts around the room in a bloody explosion, and Alex screams— Before it all goes quiet again. The raining has stopped. Clarissa is gone.

Fuck.

-

He didn’t quite move in front of her in time, but her scream is muffled in his shirt and— the blast wasn’t real, he knows it’s not real, but he can still feel the echo of the splatter hitting his back.

She’s about as covered as he could manage, an arm wrapped to cover her head as he tries (and fails) to keep his breathing even, chest rising and falling and breath probably too loud and too hot and too close to her ear, trying to keep her nestled against him. “You okay?” He doesn’t pull back, doesn’t make any move to step away, because that was a lot and she’s obviously been through a lot, and Jesus Christ she was already mostly broken before, this can’t have been good for her. So the question is murmured into her hair; quiet, even, trying not to sound as shaken as he feels.

-

It wasn’t real, that much she’s aware of. But it… it’s still insane to think about. To see. Sure, she’s heard of things like pressure and the whole story in her science classes, but what had just happened there? That wasn’t normal. Not at all. Slowly, Alex shakes her head, and tugs at Jonas’s hoodie to get him to sit down with her.

She convinces herself that she just needs a minute, that they both just need a minute before things really start going insane, which they probably do. She hasn’t had a moment to actually slow down and take things in— ever. She hadn’t ever. Alex has been so worried about what was happening to other people that she hasn’t even bothered with what was happening to herself.

That can’t be good for her mental state. Jonas probably needs a smoke. Sure, the things are disgusting, but the smell is familiar now. She can’t just shake it off.

Her hands tuck underneath the back of his beanie to toy with strands of hair, and she doesn’t move. It almost feels like she isn’t breathing, for a while, but it’s because of how panicked she is. Alex’s chest rises too slow and too fast all at once, with shallow intakes of air sucked up through gritted teeth. She can’t look at him. Not right now. But she can feel him. If she can just— If she knows he’s there— If Jonas is there, period, she’s okay. She will be okay. Eventually. She has to be. But they’d told him what she did. They’d told him everything. Which means Alex can’t ignore that forever.

“They… they wanted to use you, Jonas. As their proper vessel. I didn’t have the radio, and— Your body, it- it kept closing in on me, and—” Alex forces herself to slow down. To press her head up into his shoulder and scratch at the nape of his neck. “I switched places with you.”

-

Jonas isn’t quite sure how long he stops breathing. It’s the way she’s touching him that pulls him out of it— and that’s probably not a good thing, all things considered. But hell, all things considered, their chances of getting out of this alive - even for one loop - feel like they’re whittling themselves closer to zero every minute. If he wants to just let himself be touched for a minute… so what?

“Why?” He’s a little hoarse, but at least his voice didn’t crack. “They— We’ve lasted a loop without losing someone before.” It had happened. At least once. “We just keep them away long enough, we- we close the…” Shit. Why is it so much harder to remember when she’s the one holding the radio? He shakes his head minutely, not wanting to move out of her grasp. His voice comes out a lot more doubtful than he’d hoped. “Alex... We’ve done it before… right?” Fingers twitch and he’s not sure when they wove into her hair but they’re there now and he can’t deal with guilt on top of all of this.

He _can’t_ deal with guilt on top of all of this.

So he shoves it down deep, tries to ignore it, and just… lets it happen. Well, to some extent anyway. She’s not exactly difficult to maneuver, and he’s pulled her into his lap in seconds. And that stops there. Or, well, no, 'cause he really likes the way she’s playing with his hair and it just feels good and… he tucks his head into the crook of her neck again, eyes shut tight, a noise somewhere between a groan and a hum vibrating by her collarbone. That’s all. Nothing else. God, nothing else.

-

She doesn’t want to scare him any more than she might have already, but he needs to know, too. Almost everyone else would by now. “It’s… It isn’t often that all of us get out. I can get everyone out but me— usually. By shutting the void out of our reality, I close the gate that could’ve let me go free, and trap myself inside. All of you are safe, though. That’s what matters.” There are more details to getting absolutely, positively everyone off of Edwards Island. Alex can’t remember them right now. It’s something to do with letters, maybe? What’s the point anyway. She’s already closed that possibility in this loop.

The only time she notices Jonas’s jacket has fallen from around her shoulders is when he actually tugs her closer. It makes her smile, dig her fingernails just a bit deeper into his muscles, and sure she might not be the best at this, but it has to be helping with how he’d had his neck snapped not twenty minutes ago. Alex gives her mom massages, sometimes, when the stress gets too much and Alex is the only one around to help. Sometimes it’s more after her own arguments than any outside force. No one really knows how strained her relationship with her mom actually is. Of course they love each other, but ever since Michael… Well, ever since Michael.

Trying to replace him with Jonas. What a joke. She already knows there’s no replacing Michael. There’s no replacing Jonas, either. Different places in the same heart. Sure, she felt guilty about it the first time around, when she had to go back and live with— Well, whatever was there that she hadn’t bothered to notice before. If he’d felt the same way, he’d certainly kept it far more of a secret than she had, or at least hidden it better. But there’s nothing at stake now. Alex has nothing and everything combined to lose. She still doesn’t have the guts to go further.

Because truth be told, she doesn’t really know anymore. She thought she knew, a while ago, but now it’s gone. Fleeting. So she loops a leg around his waist, hums some lullaby she remembers from a daycare long past, and leans the side of her head against his own.

-

 _Deep breath in… 2… 3… 4… Out… 2… 3… 4… 5…_ It’s all he can do to keep his breathing even. Because it is a _struggle_. He lets his pulse pound in his fingertips but they hardly twitch. He’s going to say something he’ll regret. He’s going to _do_ something he’ll regret. So he does nothing. Absolutely nothing. He tries not to think about anything. To be empty, to be blank, to be—

He jolts for a second, a wholly bodily motion, his heart leaping into his throat. No— no, empty and blank is no good. Empty and blank is no good at all. Empty and blank and _receptive_ and _open_ and feeling whatever ghostly threat lurks at the edges of his consciousness. “Sorry.” His voice comes out rocky, like he’s been asleep for hours. “I didn’t-” He tries to settle her again, but feels like whatever magic had been there is slipping away. “I was— startled. Sorry.”

-

For what it’s worth, she’s laughing again. It’s better than the blank looks he’d gotten before, anyways, and gently Alex pulls herself away with one final tension-breaking dig that feels like it’ll have his back loosened up for a week. But she doesn’t completely let go. She still has one hand intertwined with his own, and she tugs him up, out of the crumbling facilities and down the ladder out toward where she knows the Towhee Woods start. Ren has been waiting long enough for them, now. “It’s okay, J-bird. Happens to the best of us. Especially me, these days.”

Almost all the time. She used to walk these woods as a child, but now they just feel like an eerie shadow of the places she could feel safe in. Where her family would go camping, and she and Michael kicked around a soccer ball, and everything was all summer BBQs and winter hot cocoa. It can happen again. With a different spin on it, maybe, but it can happen again. Even if she stops trying. Jonas can keep going for her, now that she knows the radio works for them both. As they’re nearing the gap that’s just about too big for her to leap, Alex mutters at him; “You do eat all the peanut butter, you know. Just saying.”

-

There’s an ache between his ribs. But they’re moving again, and they know where they’re going and (roughly) what to expect. “I don’t doubt it.” He attempts a grin, but it’s dull. Lackluster. No doubt, sure— but no memory of it either. He’d really appreciate getting back those memories, that would be just peachy. Not that he’s asking for trouble.

He glances at their hands, looks away again. “So. When we get off the island. What then?” He phrases it like they’re making plans, but that’s not what he means at all. What happens after? Are they— is this— How do things go? How long does it go? “It’s not just the same night over and over again.” Again, his tone is misleading. From what he can remember, that might be it. Or maybe not, maybe things go and they’re just different enough that it doesn’t stay put in his head. Or maybe he’s slowly forgetting everything he knows. Nothing to worry about. This will all turn out great.

He holds her hand a little tighter.

-

The only thing she can give him is a shrug and a hopeless kind of expression. That isn’t good. If Alex, of all people, is starting to become hopeless… She shakes herself out of that particular train of thought. Jonas asked her a question. “There is something after. It changes, depending on what you or I did, but there is something.” She doesn’t seem to notice that they’re shoulder to shoulder, and they’ve never walked like this in loops before, it’s always one after the other. Jonas trailing behind like a lost puppy. That doesn’t make her feel any better.

“It’s a normal year. Sure, a PTSD-filled year, but it’s normal. We get through school, Clarissa graduates, there’s a Fourth of July party, hugs are had all around… We think we did it. We think maybe Edwards Island was all just a really, really bad dream.” Alex pauses at the jump. She needs a running start for this thing. It’s a shame she has to let go of his hand, but she gives it a squeeze before she does, backing up a few paces before sprinting at the edge of the cliff. Her shoes kick off at the last second, and despite her best efforts, her chest still hits the edge rather than her feet.

For a while, she dangles there, out of breath, and then starts yanking herself back up. “Once we hit August 8th, though, it all starts over again. We’re back on the ferry.”

-

Jonas knows she can make the jump - he’s seen it happen, and every time she’s fine, she jokes about him being a big baby and how she was jumping the gorge for years. But he still tenses, still holds his breath for her jump. And then it’s his turn. He hates this thing, really truly hates it. There’s really no need for the little bounce on his heels, shaking out his shoulders before his running start, but he does it anyway.

He makes it across in more of a diving motion than a leap, tumbling haphazardly over himself on the other side until he’s flat on his back, winded. “Worst. That-” he takes a breath, “-that is the worst. How the hell do you do it? It’s like— that’s a _drop_.” Not that he’s scared of heights on a regular basis. But jumping across them is not exactly comforting. Then again, he does feel the adrenaline kicking in, so maybe it serves a purpose. He’s awake, at least.

-

“Pft— Hah! Says the one-” Alex has finally gotten back up off of the dangling portion of her jump, and instead of starting to get up again, just plops herself down next to Jonas with her head on his arm and half her limbs splayed out over the edge, “-who actually made it.” There is an ache in her bones that just never seems to leave anymore, now that she’s realized it’s there. Despite all the running, the climbing, everything she has to do just to keep people alive, she’s still hurt, too. Even without the ghost of a concussion constantly there.

Her hands have little scrapes on them now, and it looks like her jeans have been ripped up in about fifteen different places, not to mention how tangled her hair is when it’s down. But that’s what makes it authentic. That’s what makes it _Alex._ She’s too perfect when the ghosts take over. Maybe that’s a sign. Well, other than all the radios and the frequencies and everything else that has been happening for the past forever. When she turns around to look at him, the blood has rushed to her face, hair all crimped up near her shoulders, and for once she doesn’t look dead. She doesn’t look like there’s doom hanging over all of them.

Alex looks happy. Just to be there. So, so unendingly happy, even if she isn’t smiling. “But, uh, I’ve been making that since I was a kid. It just got easier not to look down and all that jazz. Ren did it, I did it, Michael was the best at it; kind of a tradition.”

-

Oh boy. This is… this is starting to become an issue. Jonas drags his eyes off of Alex and up to the stars because he can’t get the idea out of his head and it’s unproductive for a multitude of reasons (not to mention immoral, so… there’s that). And hey, her mentioning Michael kinda helps, 'cause nothing like Perfect Amazing All-Star Older Brother to remind him that he’s supposed to be _that_ for her now, and not… whatever it is that had him thinking of stupid time-wasting possibilities.

His cheeks puff and he lets out a long breath as he pulls himself into a seated position. Every thought that’s wriggling its way into his head is shunted to the side in favor of a straightforward business-minded approach. “We gotta go get the ferry running.” He makes the most dad-noises ever as he stands up, offers her a hand; “My turn for the radio, I think.”

-

There’s something odd that comes out of her when she laughs and tugs herself up with his help, stumbling just a bit and hitting her head on his chin before she’s actually steady again. Alex exchanges the radio for his beanie, leaving it there on top of his head as she fixes the woolen hat on her own with that signature crooked grin. That’s something she got from her dad; he was always more of a troublemaker than her mom. Maybe that was why they never got along. Huh.

Once they’re actually where they need to go, Alex stalls for as long as she possibly can. She goes to visit the graves of people she doesn’t know, pays respects, picks a few wildflowers and lays them out like it will give them good luck. Appease their spirits somehow. It hasn’t before, but there’s always that little bit of a chance, isn’t there? Just a little bit of one. Even though they’ve swerved more than off-topic, she still continues explaining what happens ‘After Edwards Island,’ when she can actually remember. It’s like PE and AE. Pre-Edwards, After-Edwards. The stupid joke makes her smile. Holding Jonas’s hand makes her smile.

“So, yeah. We get to August 8th after the school year is over, and we’re all mentally preparing for senior year, and then we end up right back where we started. On the ferry, with Ren telling that same stupid story.” The one about the sugar cookies and the bird watching, which never really made sense to her. With Redheaded Bedwetters and Carly. Ugh, Carly.

-

He wants to indulge her, to let her waste the night away - he’s not exactly about to complain that they’re spending too long _not being menaced by ghosts._ But she was the one anxious about time. For all the loops, it still keeps going. Jonas’s fingers tangle with hers, he brushes his thumb over her knuckles. And he steels himself. No more killing time.

“I’ll go, um… get the power on.” He pulls himself away.

He ignores that standard feeling of foreboding when the power station is unlocked, and his eyes catch on the lamp in the corner. _Here goes nothing._ The switch is flipped, the power goes out. A deep breath, and he squares his stance before the stupid glowing lamp. Stupid. Has he tried just breaking it yet? He’s not a fan of this part.

For a second he hesitates, seriously considering just going apeshit and wrecking this place. But part of him - some masochistic part of him, some part still clinging to her memory - flips on the little handheld radio.

It’s high up the dial, past the 80, the 90s… The thing is buzzing in his hands, and he hates that it feels warm, that he knows what happens next and he’s not dreading it like he should be.

The bulb shatters. The lullaby plays. Jonas sinks to his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello e"furry" "nyan" and welcome back to another episode of we wrote a whole lot and I keep forgetting to go back and edit things so Turner yells at me. But that's okay! Because now chapter six is up and we can get right back into the angst we all know and love (and were very self-indulgent in). I do wanna thank y'all again for your support. Every comment, and bookmark, or recommendation to a friend is just great. Even though I sit in the background twiddling my thumbs and laughing like a madman while my partner handles the talking. Know I love ya!
> 
> -Hammie
> 
> *squints* E furry.... what... I don't... (Okay, it took me like two hours of away time but I just got that it says everyone and I'm both ashamed and disappointed in both myself and you hammie.) Also... yelling is a harsh word. I would say.... gently nudging. And then nudging some more. Gradually. Off a cliff. Less yelling and more... whining? (And yes, another thank you to everyone reading, commenting, bookmarking, reblogging posts, etc; it really does mean a lot to us and I always feel that much lighter getting a notification email from AO3 about any of my Jonalex stuff, especially this one.) Regardless: six is edited! Complete! Posted! On to the next and the next (and to be honest the next chapter is another favorite for me). Any guesses on what comes next? I'd love to see theories on what happens in the power station. It's a fun one ;D  
> -OWT
> 
> Additionally: Does the T rating still fit? Should we upgrade to M for horror imagery? Let us know, 'cause I for one am feeling a bit wishy washy on it. Any tags you think should be added, things you are surprised aren't tagged or warned for, let us know. (-O)


	7. Chapter 7

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/186825296170/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**SEVEN**

_It’s the smell that gets him. The antiseptic too-clean smell, forcefully bowled over by the abundance of flowers, of baked goods on every surface around her. God, everyone loved her. He loved her so much. He_ loves _her. Shit. Shit, he’s crying._

_“Aren’t you supposed to be comforting me?”_

_His elbows are propped on his knees, head in his hands, and when he looks up she’s smiling. Cracked lips and bags under her eyes, but she’s smiling. Every time. Every time it’s like a spear straight through his heart. “Mom…” His voice is hoarse, barely able to make it past his aching throat._

_“C’mere.” It’s like she wants to beckon him over, but can hardly move her arms, just gesturing weakly with one hand. How the hell does she smile through this? His legs are wooden, stiff steps to her bed, dragging his chair along the floor to her side before he sinks down into it. “...How’s class?”_

_He shakes his head. He couldn’t do it then, he can’t do it now, talking trivialities. Not when he knows what comes next._

_“Look, sweetheart… we talked to the doctors. The treatment-” She clears her throat, and he can tell she’s the one being strong for him and God that hurts. “-We decided…_ **I** _decided against it.” Her hand closes around his and he grabs on hard, feeling guilty for how he’s practically crushing her hand in his - God, it’s like glass - but he doesn’t want to let go. He can’t let go._

 _“I’ll_ — _Mom, I’ll_ — _It’ll be fine.” He’s doing the math in his head, trying to remember how it could’ve worked out. “I’ll just_ — _I’ll take a break for a while, get a job. Dad can work extra hours. You need to stay, you need-” It’s like he’s trying to speak around whatever is lodged in his throat, and it’s hard. “Please.”_

_“Jonas… It’s not the money.” Christ, was it this hard the first time? It feels harder now, knowing what happens. “...I’m tired, Jonas.”_

_Six more months. If she’d given them six more months, something could’ve happened. Something could’ve changed. But they’d accepted it. Accepted that that was what she wanted, that she’d just_ — _she’d just_ **give up.** _And it makes him angry. That she’d leave like that. Leave them. Leave_ **him.**

_His breath is hard and heart pounding in his chest, because he has his own loops. His own changes. They tempt him with it over and over again. How easy it could be, to change the past. For all her strength, his mom could reconsider. She does. She lives. But that’s a different reality. A reality where things go right._

_He can’t look at her. Over and over again he shakes his head, biting his tongue until it bleeds, until he has to suck air through clenched teeth because he can’t breathe through his nose anymore because he’s an absolute mess, his face too hot, tears too sticky. It breaks his heart. Knowing he can stop it, and just… letting it happen._

_“Oh honey…” The bed creaks as she shifts, putting frail arms around him and stroking his hair and telling him - the one who lives, the one who makes it out - that things will be okay. He’s shaking as much with rage as with grief - or maybe grief-fueled rage, because it’s not right, it’s just not right. It’s not fair. His hands are fists at her chest, and the stupid beeping of the stupid machines is going to drive him crazy. What use are they, if they can’t do their goddamned job._

_His eyes are screwed shut, but he already knows what she’s doing as she adjusts her hold, pulls his hand away, pries his fingers open with too much strength for someone so sick. “You’ll be alright.” She closes his hand around the ring. “I love you.” And then she’s cooing the lullaby into his hair and he can’t breathe, he can’t, it’s just_ — _it’s too much._

* * *

...He’s not sure when he ended up on the floor, but there he is. The lights are back on. He thinks he might feel worse than when they killed him. 

-

Oh god. Oh, god, what had she been thinking? Jonas has the radio, and she should have gone with him, and— And the lights are out. Then they’re red. Then they’re out again. Alex is still stuck at the graves. She can’t see, and she’s still at the graves, and she can hear the water pouring all around her and just no. No. She can’t just stay here when he has to be going through so much more. Because she is, unfortunately, aware of what happens inside that fucking power station. Too much happens inside of that power station. So now it’s her turn to save him. She can do this. Alex can _do this._ If nothing else.

The first jump is the easiest. She toes out her foot, finds the rock, and then steps onto it. The next one is too far away for her to really feel, but when she grapples for it, she manages, with just a foot in the water. All she can hear is that roaring river and her blood in her head and no. Not now. Not right now. There have been too many times that she’s been overtaken by that fear. The noise— It used to be just taking showers would make her freak out. Feeling anything even remotely wet on her skin spelled disaster for her and everyone around her. It probably made the separation worse. Or maybe it had fueled it. Maybe something else had happened, that she didn’t really know about, but she can hear Michael now. Egging her on. Urging her, like he used to, that she shouldn’t be afraid. That it’s just some stuff that her body is almost entirely made up of. 

On try three, she falls. It feels like the world is going in slow motion, and she hits her collarbone on the rock, yelping when she feels too-warm-too-sticky liquid on her skin, which means that right now eating dirt would be an understatement. Way too much of an understatement. Alex has just face-planted onto the river bottom after slamming into a sharp as all hell stepping stone. The current isn’t enough to carry her away, but with the air knocked from her lungs she comes up sputtering, hacking up dirty water and clambering onto the bank feeling like she’s going to throw up. For a while, she does. Nothing more than that disgusting, awful, nightmare-inducing liquid comes up. Why does it have to be everywhere? Fuck. Fucking shit fuck God. 

Time passes like molasses and quicksand all at once. She isn’t aware of getting up. She doesn’t notice she’s been crying. The blood all over her, the fact that she’s soaked through to the bone and shivering as she walks with that wet socks feeling when she reaches the door, and despite herself, tries the knob. Locked. Because of course it’s locked, Alex, Jonas said it was locked the last fifty odd times _you’ve_ been trapped in there. So she goes from just knocking and asking for him to open it, to screeching at him, ramming the thing with her tiny, tiny shoulder. Alex must look like a drowned rat right now, and honestly, she can’t care less. She counts ticks underneath her breath, listens for sounds of life: an owl’s call, or a bat, or something other than just her hyperventilating and the sound of wood rattling on its hinges. Nothing else comes of it.

When the lights come back on, the door doesn’t just slam open when she rams it. The thing comes completely off of the frame, clattering to the ground, and sending her right along with it. Jonas is on the floor. He’s okay, but he’s on the floor, and he’s been gone for an hour, and she knows what probably happened, but she doesn’t mention that. Instead, Alex picks herself back up, breathing hard, and walks over to him, offering a hand. She looks too put together for her own good. But it isn’t herself she has to be worrying about. It’s Jonas. Jonas just dealt with seeing something horrible, and even if she has no idea what it is, it has to have shaken him. When he doesn’t react faster than a deer in the headlights, she drops herself down to his level, and tugs his head into her lap. Yes, he’s taller, and yes, it’s kind of awkward, but this worked last time.

Alex threads her hands through his hair and just croons for a while. It isn’t his mother’s song, and it isn’t his mother’s singing, it might not even be singing, but it’s what worked. Somewhat worked. And she murmurs, “I know, Jo. I know. You’ve gotta try and let go. You can’t carry this with you forever. You can’t. Just let go. Cry if you need to, I won’t tell anyone. And when we get back, you get to pick the movies we watch for the next week. It isn’t okay, I’m not gonna lie to you. But you can listen to me. I’m here. I’m not giving up.”

-

Jonas is pretty sure she’s saying something, there’s definitely noise happening, and his head is in her lap— no, not _her_ lap, Alex. It’s Alex and he’s back and— His jaw clenches, glaring at the ceiling. 

And they made him choose. 

His eyes hurt. They’re bloodshot, like— well, like he’s just been crying out every drop of moisture in him. The light stings, but he’ll get used to it. Every part of him feels raw. No, not— not _every_ part. Just his soul. But God, that feels like everything. It’s raw and open and bleeding from his skin— So he glares, and he grits, and he builds up a wall. He feels like he did back then: on edge, constantly, like anything could set him off. Like one shitty joke could have him seeing red. He tenses, stiffens, muscles gone tight, too close to striking, to lashing out, to being who he was - that mess of a person. 

It’s a strangled angry thing that comes out of him, like a grunt of warning, half feral, and his head jerks out of her hold. “Not right now, okay, not—” He’s pulling away, getting away from her, away from anything that can remind him of- of anything. “-Just not right now.” His words are sharp, but he’s trying not to glare at her, trying not to turn this on her, trying to keep some goddamned composure. 

It takes him a second to breathe. It’s like all of the frustration and the rage he’s been holding back for— for too long, like it’s seeping out and up to the surface and there’s a rush of it that’s crackling under his skin, urging him on, his blood throbbing in his ears and fuck— _fuck_ he just needs to- to—

He’s on his feet, looking for—

The lamp is the first casualty, of course. The stupid thing. That _fucking_ lamp and that _fucking_ day and— Every sound coming out of him is— It’s half pulled out of him, kicking and screaming, and half spilling over, uncontrollable and wild and- and mean- and— angry. 

She gave up. 

He was so mad at her for giving up, and he couldn’t— he couldn’t tell her that, and-

It feels good, the rush of blood that’s heating every sinew in his arms, pushing— no, lifting, raising that stupid old-fashioned tv into the air and just slamming it on the ground, pushing everything, all of it, _everything_ away from him, _ruining_ it and _destroying_ it and just—

There’s a lot. A lot that needs to come out of him. A year and a half of suppressed fury, things he couldn’t feel because he couldn’t tarnish the way he saw his mother - his saint of a mother, his delicate _gentle_ mother - with all the anger he has. Anger and guilt and self-loathing, all of it rampaging through him, a frenzy of action and movement and—

He’s not about to make the mistake of punching through a window, that’s no good, but he slams a foot down through the bottom shelf of the little side table, splintering it not quite into two pieces, knocking the books to the floor. He pulls the blinds from the windows and doesn’t care if he’s holding them too tight, if they’re slicing at his palms, because he _needs this_. His forehead is against the wall and hands balled into fists and he’s not trying to go through it but he needs to hit something, and he needs it to hurt, so his strikes are close and short and just enough to bruise later. 

He’s breathing hard, panting, and his eyes fall on the radio. That stupid _fucking_ radio. How it wound up unscathed so far tonight, he doesn’t know. Snatching it up from the table, his arm raises, poised to throw it down, let it shatter, but— but all the wind rushes out of him. He chucks it into the chair in the corner, letting it cushion the fucking thing, keeping the monster alive. He stumbles back against the wall, the back of his head hitting a little too hard as falls back, slides down it, knees to his chest and palms open by his sides, a little bloody but nothing that won’t close up in the next thirty minutes or so. Bruising, maybe. He breathes. He can handle that. 

He can handle it. Whatever they throw at him, he’ll handle it. 

-

He needs her. Or, that’s what she thinks he needs, but obviously she’s read the room wrong, because he’s doing this on his own now. It’s what he wants. Alex doesn’t know what to do. For once, in all of the loops, she doesn’t know what to do about Jonas. The first time she didn’t either, but that was because he was facing down possession after possession and she couldn’t get him out of it. But now it’s just because he’s so, so angry. But she doesn’t blame him. She doesn’t think him lesser for this, because she’s done the same thing. She’s gotten so fed up, and felt so toyed with… It isn’t exactly the same. But it has to at least come close. So Alex doesn’t move.

She sits there, quietly, with her head hung low and hands in her lap as she listens to Jonas completely destroy the room. There isn’t anything to blame him for. This was something he was afraid of, being seen as a threat, but that isn’t how she sees him. It hasn’t been. Ever. If anything, he’s her only ally now. The only thing she can actually trust. Since he needs a minute to just be wild, to just go absolutely fucking insane, he’ll get that minute. She can wait. Alex can wait. And she does. 

Tapping her fingers on her jeans, tucking his beanie further over her head, she tries not to act as cold as she feels. Not even emotionally. She’s never been one to shut herself down— Sure, she’s tried not feeling things, but that just isn’t how she works. At least not usually. Jonas did that. Jonas had been doing that, has been, since his mom died. Since he wound up with an unfair sentence. Since he lost a year of his life because of one stupid insult from some dickwad that deserved what he got coming to him.

It’s only after everything stops that she moves again. Alex picks herself up off of the ground, steps over the television, around the torn up blinds, and settles herself beside him. She still gives him an arm’s length of space. But it’s just to let him know she’s there. The terrifying thing is the look on her face, when she sees him. It isn’t scared. It isn’t angry. It isn’t even disappointed that he’s lost his cool, that he’s acted like some insane juvie kid that he thinks he is. It’s soft. Soft, and quiet, and almost desperate for him to give some inkling of how he feels just so that she can help. So that she can do something.

Because she wants to help. She does. But she doesn’t know how, because he’s different than Alex, he handles things differently. And she can’t think of anything to do that might actually help. She doesn’t know if she can set him off again with a stupid joke, or some kind of mention of the past, or even saying fuck you to all the things that kept them going. She knows she can’t equate her pain to his own, that… That just seems wrong. In a lot of different ways. So instead, Alex breathes a shaky kind of sigh out, and tips her head up in a stance to mimic his own. Just to let him know she’s there. Just stay there.

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

-

When he first got to juvie - when he got checked in and processed and all of it - when he became a number, a case... He was there, feeling in over his head and terrified and like he had to be the one to punch first because shit, he couldn’t let them know how scared he was. How much fear just… just owned him. It was terrifying. He’d gone from someone who was basically nothing - not good, not bad, just sort of average and there and liked enough, maybe even well-liked - to just another fuck-up. Something that needed to be contained, and quarantined, and fixed. 

It had taken him weeks to adjust. To stop being the one standing too firmly, too solid, too silent, like he expected someone to try to knock him over any given second. To accept what was happening. To actually talk to people. To accept that some of the staff actually _were_ there to help, and that things would be a lot easier if he just accepted that help. Fuck. He just wants to forget all of that. They would’ve moved out of North Valley no matter what, just to get away from the memories and the scandal. It just so happened that Grace was also from Oregon, so… it worked out okay. 

He holds his breath. Lets his heart rate slow to a crawl. When he exhales, the fight has gone out of him. “I’m—” His voice cracks, and he winces. “I’m sorry. I haven’t— that— ...I shouldn’t have let that happen.” He almost tried to excuse it. He knows it’s inexcusable. It’s a problem. One he hasn’t had to face up to in a while, but he knows it’s a problem. His head rolls toward where he senses she is, eyes opening blearily. “Are you alright? I don’t— I didn’t mean to scare you.”

-

Alex shakes her head at him, just a little bit. “You didn’t scare me, Jonas. I wasn’t scared for a second. I’m okay.” She’s telling the truth. There’s that look on her face, like she knows he expects her to be scared, expects her to run off screaming if he makes another move. If he even tries to make right what he just did. But there isn’t anything to make right. Instead, she offers a half smile at him, and she looks… Saintly. Quiet. The lamp may be broken, but it still flickers on and off behind her head, acting like some kind of fucked up halo with how she’s facing.

-

“Yeah. Well.” He takes a long second to close his eyes. “...I was. So.” When his eyes open again he frowns a little at the flickering, gropes blindly until his hand finds the cord and yanks it out of the wall. “Fire hazard,” he mutters, wearily. 

\- 

“You did this,” she gestures toward the mess, “because you needed to. You _needed_ to. It’s been on your shoulders for too long. All of it has. So I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t hurt. I don’t blame you— I mean, god, Jonas… How could I blame you for anything?” Just a little bit closer. Still, she isn’t touching him, but her body moves just the smallest bit closer to him. And it isn’t apprehensive. It’s gentle. Like she’s the one trying not to tick him off anymore than he has to be, like she’s ready to leave him alone, if that’s what Jonas wants. She just wants him to be okay. She just wants him to be safe. That’s all she can ask for. 

-

“No one _needs_ to do shit like that Alex. No one.” He’s a little sharp with her, and feels like a hypocrite for it. “I could’ve hurt you, I could’ve—” His fingers flex, too aware that he already _did_ hurt himself. “I’ve worked on it. I have. And I— I can be better.” His walls are up, his too-keen sense of self awareness, but it cracks, goes a little wobbly like jello, when she inches closer. There are so many things he wants to say to her. Over and over again, he wants to apologize, for everything, for not being enough, for being too much. 

-

It’s not that she understands, but it’s… something close to that. Something a little to the left and upward, as she tucks freakin’ caribbean hair away from her face, and just keeps smiling at him. It’s gentle, and it’s tired, and it says so much more than what Alex ever can with words. “Just be okay. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but eventually… Just be okay. And I will be too.”

-

She’s so fucking _soft_ right now, and he feels so guilty. She’s not going to admit it, but she’s walking on eggshells for him, and— It’s like a piece of his heart is ripped off. And she’s right to. It makes perfect sense. He’s unpredictable and erratic and, in this case, _seriously_ violent. She shouldn’t have to feel like she has to watch out for him, but it makes sense that she does. It’s kind of a relief, honestly. He can look at that feeling resting in the pit of his stomach, telling him he’s a monster, and recognize that it’s not entirely correct. But that it has a point. That people close to him, people like Alex, need to be aware. 

“I can be better,” he repeats, and it’s not entirely clear what he’s referring to. Jonas’s eyes are sad as he smiles at her, reaches out a hand for hers, palm up. 

-

“Oh, Jonas...” Her eyes roll just a bit, but once she’s given the option again, she takes his hand almost instantly. That means he’s at least good enough for physical contact. Which probably means he’s winding down. It’s a bit of the opposite, with her. Whenever Alex winds down, she never wants to touch anyone else ever again. But during the middle of it, when things are really freaking out, she doesn’t want to let go of the person that’s with her. Odd how that duality works.

-

It’s the easiest thing in the world, like a reflex, that as soon as her hand is in his he turns it over and brings it to his lips. It’s way too easy and too weird and he tries to act like this is normal, like it’s not creepy as fuck, brushing a kiss against the back of her hand, and he lets go almost immediately. 

-

The moment is just a little bit broken when she lets out a sneeze, but it’s more like a mouse’s squeak, and she feels it coming on. Which means she has the time to cover it up with her elbow. “Yeah, uh… Sorry for getting your clothes wet. I kinda made a mad dash here, and fell in the river, and - uhm - yeah. Sorry. For that.”

-

He hadn’t taken her in before, but when he does… “You look… fine to me?” Maybe a little rough and tumble, like when she scraped herself up jumping the gorge, but definitely dry. A look of realization dawns on his face, and settles to a grim smile. “More weird time stuff.” His voice is flat, sardonic, and almost like an inside joke. They’ve been through so much of this already, he should’ve expected it. He should always expect worse to come.

-

Alex lets out a withering groan, sliding down the wall so that her neck feels like it’s about to crack and her pelvis catches air time. “God, fuck this. Actually. First, I fall in the water and get a panic attack, and next nothing else has happened! Fucking. Fuck.” Her free hand jumps up and waves about, as if water droplets are going to just fall off of her, but they don’t. Because Jonas is absolutely right; she’s dry, and without the cut across her chest to prove it. But there’s a thin white line where it used to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the notes section where I don't remember to write anything? But I can say this: Thank y'all for the continued support, and getting this fic some traction? Yeah sure, it's a small canoe of a ship, but it's working its way around. Especially with Turner nagging at me constantly to edit the chapters so we can actually post this (don't worry I still love you, you're a great friend). So! Unlucky number seven. Or, lucky number, depending on the time of day. Sorry y'all had to go through all that angst. Just remember! There is a light at the end of the wump tunnel. Maybe.
> 
> -Hammie
> 
> (I am probably the most annoying editor, lbr. But it's because I love this fic. And I just want everyone to be able to read it. And I want it to be a version both of us are happy with. ❤ ) I love this chapter so much. Getting to write some of that hidden backstory for Jonas is just *finger kiss* delectable. Also some angst. And anger. The kid needed to let it out, okay? And we love him for it. Hopefully.  
> Either way, I am dying to know what you think of this peek into (our) Jonas's history and inner workings. Did it work? What were your headcanons for this kind of thing? And for what his version of Alex's Michael flashbacks would be? Always excited to hear from you guys.  
> \- OWT


	8. Chapter 8

[ ](https://h4mm132l1c3.tumblr.com/tagged/oxenfree)

**EIGHT**

After a while of feeling painful, Alex drags herself back up into a sitting position, holding onto Jonas’s hand with both of her own. “C’mon then, Jo-bro. We’ve got another ferry to catch. Despite the fact that I really don’t wanna go into the loop we’re about to deal with, because… Yeah. I don’t.”

-

He groans a little at the nickname as they leave the power station, but it’s a good-humored sort of thing. “Ready to play soccer with creepy shadow monsters?” There’s a kind of smile on his face, something determined but sharp, like he’s prepared to go HAM on the next ghost that tries to fuck with them. 

They click (well, Alex clicks) the switch to start the ferry, and Jonas shuffles kitty-corner to the controls, keeping Alex pinned in place where the cabin walls are highest as he holds on tight to the rail with one hand and to the control panel with the other. This thing was unsafe the first however-many loops. Now that everyone’s going off-script, he’s not about to risk her falling to her death just 'cause they have to go the long way around. 

-

Oh, yeah, okay, that’s Jonas keeping her in one spot. That isn’t setting her off at all. Nope. Not at all. Sure, she knows it’s probably for safety and probably because this thing is rickety as all hell and really, _really_ not to be trusted, but a specific portion of her brain is ignoring that right now. Alex really hates that portion of her brain. It’s probably the smokey smell that comes off of him making her loopy. Probably. Like a secondhand high with Ren. But nicotine doesn’t work that way. Which really only leaves one option. The blood rushes to her cheeks.

“Nope. I don’t even like soccer anymore.” Her voice comes out sounding something like a croak. This sucks. This is nice, and it sucks that it’s nice, and _oh my god stop thinking that._

-

“Mhm.” Jonas is a little distracted. Maybe a little warm. But hey: safety. “That’s a shame.” He really isn’t paying attention to the words he’s saying, fingers holding on a little too tight to the railing as he tells himself it’s a heights thing, not an Alex thing— but he knows himself, and that dude is a _liar._

As soon as they hit the other side, he’s out of the little cabin. 

“So. Umm.” Yeesh, why the sudden need to make small talk? “...You used to come here a lot as— SHIT!” He wheels around, glaring toward the campgrounds. “Not gonna happen! I’m not doing that again!” They can’t just… stuff words in his mouth. “Fuck you and the sub you rode in on,” he growls, hopping down the little ledge to get to the out-of-place abandoned tent. “You hear me? _Fuck you_.”

-

At first, she doesn’t understand what he’s so angry about. And then she remembers just how many loops they’ve been going through, and how many times he’s said that exact thing over and over again, and she’s just as angry as Jonas is. But she follows out after him, hops the ledge - lands a little wrong, fucking ouch - before making her way over to the dreaded soccer ball. She can’t get past it. She can’t avoid it. Alex’s _Slaughterhouse-Five_ , in a sense. 

“This is gonna suck…” No one else hears it. But they can certainly hear her next words, shouted to the night sky, “Hey Michael! Eat grass!” 

Then Alex punts the ball halfway across the camping site. It bounces three times, skids, and then rolls to a stop in front of a tree. Just as she thought, it gets kicked right back to her with a murmur that could have just been a combination of the wind and her own imagination. _“Not before you do, little sister…”_

-

Jonas lets out a disbelieving snort at her words because— well, not to be too on the nose, but _ballsy._ It rolls back to her, as per usual. “...Well? Gonna kick it again?” That’s the pattern. One kick, kicked back, two kicks, kicked back with the added bonus of creepy voices, three kicks and it’s over and they get the shit scared out of them by the ghosts’ spooktacular wall appearance. 

-

“I am, I am, let me gloat for a minute.” She manages a scared smile and then kicks the ball again. This time it’s weaker, only going to the edge of the little lake near them, but it gets kicked back again. Alex can’t tell what they’re saying anymore, and she doesn’t really care to tell. She never has. Once it’s rolled to a stop at the tips of her toes, she does something a little bit differently. It’s half out of anger, and half trying to one up the thing as it scares them, when she backs herself up and absolutely slams the ball into a tree trunk.

-

It’s practically a smirk on his face, his words muttered, tongue-in-cheek, an echo of the script from loops past: “...‘Like the badasses we are.’”

-

It pops, and the ghost embeds itself onto the old brick wall nearby. No matter how many times Alex sees it, she still gets goosebumps, a little yelp coming out of her before her head splits open and nothing is the same. Well— Nothing is the same in the sense that absolutely everything is the same. Jonas is about to ask her about coming up here again. There’s a tape recorder by the campsite. _So it goes._

-

Jonas makes a face, like he’s trying to get something awful tasting off of his tongue. “Repetition repetition…” It’s a kind of nervous sing-song, not at all amused. It’s not super fun having words pop into your head like you’re supposed to say them. “...Eugh.” There’s only one tape recorder to wind. “Well, no time like the present.” Oof. Bad joke. 

-

Alex snorts at him for the stupid joke. Because holy shit, that’s a really stupid joke. Nonetheless it’s good-natured when she shoulders him gently, bumps their heads together again, and then starts walking. The ball is gone, but the ghostly figure isn’t, when she hops off of the ledge and stands at attention at the tape player. 

This one takes longer to wind than they usually do. First she has the tempo too fast, and then it’s moving like molasses, as if the ghosts are fucking around with time even more just to throw her off. Jonas can probably hear the string of curses coming from her mouth more than the music, as she fiddles with buttons and the stupid hand crank. Why are things never, ever simple. Especially not with time. Time is never simple. Either you don’t have enough of it, or you have too much of it.

Her heart pangs. Michael didn’t have enough time. 

-

“Um… Alex?” She’s taking forever to do a (at least as far as he remembers) simple task. “Are you—”

-

The tape recorder finally plays its usual tune, and she heaves a sigh. Moving backward and dealing with stupid shit in three, two, one—

-

And then everything is clear again. 

“O-kay. …Well. That’s done with, at least.” Like before, like in the comm tower, all evidence of whatever it was reminding them of— …Well, the ball is gone. And a shame too, 'cause he was about ready to stab it, and he’s betting that would’ve felt real good.

Jonas’s eyes wander up the path and he grimaces at the shadow burned into the brick. “…Yeah. Everyone’s favorite wall decor: ghosts.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm. In a way, it’s a step up, seeing things with a kind of cynical distance. At least he’s not jumping out of his skin about it. 

-

“Hooray for wall ghost, our forever friend on this journey of temporal anomalies.” It seems like she shares his sentiment. Alex starts walking again, taking the lead after she grabs onto Jonas’s hand - which takes a minute, seeing as she gropes blindly - but eventually she gets there. Once they’ve moved past the campsite and climbed up the weird rock wall that was half installed and half natural formations, they find Nona. Alex knew this was coming, but that doesn’t make it any better when the girl starts talking.

“D- Don’t, okay, don’t move. Okay? Don’t come anywhere near me.” Nona sounds just as shaken as usual, her voice all scrambled with something like unshed tears. Alex never knows what happens before they find her here. It always hurts. “Just don’t… Move.”

-

He feels like a bit of a dick for it, but as soon as they spot Nona, Jonas drops Alex’s hand. There’s not really a good reason to do it, at this point. Except, well. ...Nona? If anything, dropping her hand only feels like it’s pointing toward some kind of guilt, which implies that he knew what he was doing was wrong, which implies— well, a lot of things, most of which are true, so maybe he shouldn’t bother rationalizing the decision to himself. 

“...We’re… we’re gonna just…” He holds his hands up placatingly, taking a step back. 

“This night has turned… _banana bread._ Really fast. And I’m seeing things, and forgetting things— and I’ve bumped into you once already.” She shoots a look between the two of them, eyebrows furrowed in a mix of suspicion and fear. “And... it was horrible, so…” Nona pauses, looking a little disoriented. It takes her a second to speak again, and when she does, it's like she’s tripping over her tongue for a moment. “So… just look… you’re… you’re not gonna talk about my grandfather.” She’s back up to speed, glaring at them. “You’re not gonna—” Her glance flicks between the two of them and she shakes her head. “When did you get here?” 

Jonas can practically see the colliding time streams mixing themselves up in her head. “No, you’re— you were—” She rubs her head, grinds a palm into her eyes. “God, Jonas, get a hold of yourself, will you? It’s none of my business but seriously, it’s _weird_ , so— _eurgh…_ ” She groans like someone just shined a light into her hungover eyes. “So... you’re... just gonna-” She shakes it off, glaring at them again. “You’re just gonna stand there, _politely,_ and tell me if you’ve seen Clarissa. 'Cause... I’ve been looking.”

There’s heat on his neck, because whatever she’s implying it’s not in whatever reality they’re in, where Alex wound the tape recorder. If it’s something in the other one - _some_ other one - he’s not sure. Or if it’s just… _Other_ Jonas and _Other_ Alex. 

-

This is the most confused she’s been yet. “What are you talking about? Back at the beach?” Alex wants to ask more about why Nona is targeting Jonas, about _what_ is weird— But everything is weird, which probably means it was something about the not-Jonas that threw her off in the classroom. The one that brought out more than a little bit of her own brand of weirdness. And now she’s going to end this train of thought, because that wasn’t good, and she absolutely hates that, Jesus. 

“I’m _talking_ about the Alex I saw on the pier. After the cave looked like the freakin’ Fourth of July, and I lost track of everybody.” There’s some red in Nona’s eyes, she thinks, but it fades too quickly for Alex to really be sure. 

“Nona, believe me, that wasn’t who you thought it was.” It’s similar to what she was doing with Jonas, but Alex sounds more snappy, less like she actually cares for the person she’s talking to. But then Nona puts a hand on her chest, and lifts one into the air, like some kind of fucked up scout’s honor. Then it goes from that to a military salute, her hand on the invisible brim of an officer’s hat. Wow, that is new.

“...I don’t know that yet.” Nona murmurs her words, and then takes a step back, her bangs falling a bit into her face. The red specks are brighter when she raises a finger at Alex. “What I do know, is that you two have something weird going on. Especially you, Ms. Blue-haired… whatever you are!” 

Alex decides to ignore that accusation. “We’re here 'cause we think Ren is somewhere in the woods. Have you seen him?”

-

Jonas reaches for Alex’s arm, that first instinct to get her behind him kicking in before he sees Nona’s glare and drops his hand. What the hell is going on? The military salute does it, that’s just— just _too_ weird, and he puts a hand on Alex’s shoulder, stepping in front of her. 

“Nona, just go to the comm tower, okay? We’ll get Ren, we’ll meet you there.” 

Her lip curls, scoffing. “Oh god, just get a room.”

“Seriously Nona?” His tone is warning. “Back the fuck off. Whatever you are.” Because he’s like… okay, maybe not 100, maybe not even 90, but he’s like… 65% sure she’s not herself. That she’s… something else. 

-

Alex nods, slowly, “Yeah that’s actually… That’s a good idea. Go to the comm tower and just sit tight till we get back.” She doesn’t seem to realize the tension that rolls out of her when Jonas takes the lead. Nona doesn’t seem to like that any better than before, but she doesn’t make a comment about it. At least.

“And the comm tower is… where?” Despite how anxious and paranoid she is, anywhere away from them seems to make Nona think better of her quips. Which only confuses Alex further. What had her alternate done to screw up such a sweet girl so badly? Sure, she hadn’t told Ren off during truth or slap, and she probably had a grudge against her about Clarissa and that whole beef, but accusing Jonas of things he hadn’t done? Accusing _Alex_ about things she hadn’t done? That was just weird.

-

She’s- Alex is— He turns his head to her, puzzled. She’s… just… He’s heard this before. A _lot_ of this before. But Alex was- she was out of— unstuck in time. She knew the script. She was breaking it. Or he thought she was. 

Jonas just stares, brow furrowed, trying to figure out how real this is, and the words start to come of their own accord. “It’s the cloud—” He shakes his head as he turns back to Nona. “Back through the woods. Giant tall tower named after Dick Harden. Hard to miss.” Ugh. _Repetition repetition._ It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

“And you… You’re really you?”

 _Are you really_ _you_ _?_

“We’re— yes, Nona. We’re… about as much ourselves as we’re gonna get,” he mutters darkly, more to himself than anyone else. 

-

“Alright. Bye.” With that, Nona climbs her way up onto the little ledge and sprints off, her hair flowing back behind her. Alex grimaces at her retreating figure.

“That girl is a-” Splitting headache. She has to grab for a random tree, and there aren’t really any nearby, but she makes do. There’s a half growl in the back of her throat. “-Peach. Fuck me running. Was I doing that just now? With— with the whole— sticking to the scripted areas, thing? God, I thought I was past that…” She’d thought there had been enough runs to the point where she had every conversation memorized, but maybe that has just been the urge to follow rather than her actual efforts. Which doesn’t really bode well.

-

He’s rounded on her before she even finishes speaking. “Christ, Alex! You— you scared the _shit_ out of me! I thought— And— You were doing the- the company line or _whatever_ , and Nona was-” He waves a hand in her direction wildly. “Whatever the hell _that_ was, and— Fuck, Alex, I thought I’d been, like- punted into a parallel dimension or something!”

-

“I know! I know I was, I— I didn’t mean to!” Alex sounds almost more panicked than he does, but she doesn’t really think that’s possible. She’d been back on script. She’d been right back in the loop, in the middle of it, before she’d realized. And it was Jonas of all people to pull her out of it. Other than the odd comments about the pair of them, Nona had seemed to reset her. Like someone turned a game console on and off again. 

-

The more he thinks about it the more he hates the idea because this— this is the best timeline right now. Or— or maybe not, but it’s the timeline he _wants_ to be in, not the one he’s _stuck_ in, and… “Oh my god.” He lowers himself to a crouch, head in his hands. “Jesus, that was… don’t do that.” He hadn’t realized just how much it would affect him, thinking she was… well, not gone, but… 

No: thinking she was gone. That she was something else. That she was back on script. Shit, it’s terrifying. Being alone? Losing Alex— _this_ Alex? 

Jonas lets out a long breath. Steadies himself. Stands back up. 

-

“It, it just— I just— Fuck, my head went blank, and I couldn’t really see anything? So I, I kept going with what felt natural, it felt— felt _too_ normal, talking to her. Jonas, I think…” She thinks that could happen if she talked with anyone other than him.

Once she’s gotten her footing back, Alex sighs, tangling her fingers with Jonas’s and tugging him along to the end of the trail. “Okay. We just need to find Ren, and then we need to leave. Like, ASAP. This is getting to me. A lot more than it usually does when I follow specific choices.” Jonas does have the radio. But she’d been the one to reset the tape player. What the hell is going on?

-

He lets her tug him along, but words are spilling through his head because— What? What did she think? He wants to pull her up short and demand that she answer and- and he wants to— There’s a lot of things he wants. Just... a lot of them. None of them particularly goal-oriented. 

“Look, I feel like I’ve got a pretty good grasp on reality at the moment— on _this_ reality,” he corrects himself. “So if you want— I feel like you should take the next thing. The next… anomaly thing.” She obviously needs it more than he does right now, if she’s… reverting, or whatever. “I’ll wind the tape. You do the radio.” It’s weird, doling out the horror between the two of them. Even weirder that Jonas has almost started to think of it like a sport, or a schedule. Keeping everything balanced and on track, moving forward and staying sane. 

He knows what comes next. They’ll meet Ren, he’ll be himself for all of two seconds and then it’s another loop and another tape player that needs rewinding, and then— 

And then it’s a window. _Another_ window. And if it’s anything like the window at Fort Milner… Well, he’ll die again. Whatever. Better than Alex and whatever had happened with that, with the blood and the Stepford Wives bullshit. He’ll die for a minute or two, and be back. So it goes. Ugh.

-

Alex lets out a shuddery kind of sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll keep my best friend from going completely loco, and then he’ll get all sucked up or whatever, and you’ll get blipped out of existence. Totally okey-dokey. I’m not worried about losing you forever _at all._ ” She only squeezes his hand tighter. Sure, she’s being sarcastic, but it’s true. She’s worried about him. They need to pace how they use the radio, and they need to make sure they both understand the loop, but that only means they’re both more vulnerable to attack from evil Kanaloa ghosts of Christmas past.

It isn’t even close to Christmas. This is the opposite of Christmas. Halloween? Okay— Stop thinking about stupid holidays and get through the night. 

After all of that conversation, they walk in silence, until she spots the relay point in the distance. Alex speeds up just the tiniest bit, to see if anything changes if they get there earlier. If Ren spots them coming up the side of the hill and opens the door for them. It doesn’t happen. Instead, she bursts through the door, and Ren yips in surprise at the sight of Alex and her partner in crime.

“Oh man, thank God! I thought you were a werewolf!”

-

Jonas sets his jaw. “Okay, speed it up, we only have the same night over and over.”

Ren looks confused. “What? What are you—”

Aaaand they’re back at the bottom of the hill again. Well, he knows how this goes. Creepy Ren is creepy, and— yeesh, super creepy, with the weird droning and all that. But he jogs along, catches up, passes up one staircase and then the other. It’s easier without the mandatory confronting his mother’s death. Just winding. _Kachunk kachunk kachunk._ Repetition, repetition. 

Creepy droning Ren is gone (or, well, he’s at least around the corner, so they get a brief respite), and they’re standing on this side of the relay point and he’s on the other waiting for them. 

With a sigh, Jonas turns to Alex. “So. I was thinking, when this bit is over, when we get Ren— You think he took that second brownie yet?” He’s stalling, he knows that. Trying to lighten the mood. “I was thinking I might just chuck his backpack into a ravine or something. Really fuck with the timeline, just to show ‘em who’s boss, y’know?”

-

Alex shakes her head. “Ren’s— Ugh. He’s got a bit of a drug problem, in case you haven’t noticed. Sure, he never gets into the real hard stuff, but he still has a brownie in him nearly every second of the day. Based off of how the timelines go? It’s in him already.” Which will make their job far less than easy. She’s been fiddling with the radio while Jonas resets the tapes, leaned on his shoulder and trying her best not to listen to the odd thrum of her possessed friend. That always sets her off more than it should. Though once she hears the tapes fitting back together again, once they’re at the bottom of the hill, she knows what she has to do. 

“Alright, Ren! I’m coming!” It’s the only thing she can think to say. Not quite on script, and not quite off, as she trudges up past the street lamp and onto the ledge. Ren lays there, mumbling and groaning, as the ghosts do their damnedest to make him look more dead than he is. That doesn’t matter. He isn’t dead, and Alex knows he isn’t. 

The dial starts to turn. She has to tune in first, before she can even think about trying to save him, which in retrospect doesn’t make any sense. But she does it anyway. Alex watches the little tick marks move up and up and up, with the light from its screen projected onto her face. This is the part she hates. This is the part she really, really hates. Because they act like it actually hurts Ren. 

-

Jonas would love to think that his grimace is over Ren’s tortured gurgling noises, but it’s probably not. It’s probably because he knows what comes next. Deep breath. Ren drops to the ground. Jonas doesn’t even pretend to go help him, just shoots a look at Alex. “Be back soon,” he promises. 

And then he’s pulled, folded over on himself and it’s like he’s being shot through with— with something, tugging him along by his spine and- and this is when he zips away. Another vision of the sea, of the sinking, of the sunken. 

Except… not. 

\\\\\

“Is that helping him or hurting him?” 

What? Jonas blinks, because this isn’t the sea, with it’s weirdly peaceful ominous foreboding. This is the relay station. And he’s holding the radio.

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/186932368425/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back at it again with the updates m'dudes! I actually roped Turner into doing another RP with me so I'm using that as a way to procrastinate but shhh no one tell her that. Yes it's more Jonas and Alex. No I'm not telling you the details yet. Am I getting your hopes up because this is the closest thing to actual interaction you might get out of me for this entire thing. Anywhosit, I'm not sure if we're gonna be posting that as a fic or not, but it's making me happy and engaged in the fandom. So whatever works! Again and again and again, thank you for your continued support.
> 
> -Hammie
> 
> "Roped Turner into doing another RP with me" = death to sleep for however long until this is finished. _But anyways_ yes, here is yet another chapter. Also, I realized I'd somehow totally miscounted and there will only be twenty _one_ parts to this fic, rather than twenty two. As always, thank you to everyone who keeps reading (and kudos-ing, and commenting, and subscribing, and bookmarking, etc etc); no engagement isn't going to stop us writing, but more engagement definitely speeds up the editing process (on my end anyway xD).  
> A quick heads up that the next chapter is going to be... interesting. The formatting will be adjusted, and will hopefully make intuitive sense, but if not feel free to drop us a line. More importantly, there may be an adjustment to M for rating, even if things will be relatively tame for M, they're a bit much for T, so... we shall see, I suppose. In the meantime: so what'd you think? Drop us a comment, or an emoji, or a question— basically, anything, we love hearing what you have to say. 😁  
> -OWT


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things to mention for this chapter:  
> 1) As introduced at the end of the last chapter, this chapter takes place in two parallel timelines. The alignment of the text should make the changeover clear. If not, there are slashes/backslashes to indicate change of timeline.  
> 2) Writing-credit wise, we each wrote our primary character and the possessed version of that character.

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187000066400/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

** NINE **

///

Jonas is gone. He’s always gone for this part, and she knows he is, but it still scares her. It scares her so much. Ren is floating now, and Alex just about has the second line across the sky when something seems far more off than normal. “Jonas…”

_We are abounding._   
_Not one._   
_Silly. Blue hair._   
_Anna. Tried._   
_What you. Are plotting._   
_No one ever. Understands._   


“Oh, I understand damn well. Of course I understand. This is such—” She pauses. The second line is set. And then, underneath her breath, “So it goes. Don’t stick to script, Alex.”

\\\\\

He’s still trying to figure out what’s going on, but his body already knows. 105. 100. 

“Ren!” The Alex going to Ren’s side is definitely not the one Jonas was just with. And it’s— she’s a pale imitation. Well. A good one, but not the same. Missing the skinned palms and tangled hair. It doesn’t change the lurch in his stomach when she gets sucked out of existence, though. Jonas wonders, for a second, if this is happening. Not— if this is _still_ happening. Constantly. Infinitely. Every disappeared Alex or Jonas - or Ren, or Nona, he doesn’t know how things work in a multiverse - creating their own separate timeline. God, he hopes not. He would much prefer to just… go back. 

_Hard to talk. Through child._  


Well, that’s familiar, at least.

 _As always._  
_Feels stretched. Better now._  


Jonas isn’t too keen on sticking to the script. He’s heard it before. So instead— well, fuck it, might as well ask. “That other Alex. When she goes, does this happen, too? When I— when I go back… It all… snaps back into place?” He’s not sure if he expects a straight answer or not. Probably not. 

_Soldier._  
_Misses his._  
_Sleepy Time Gal._  


“Well yeah. Obviously.” He’s not sure where the bravery is coming from, but he’s sure as hell gonna use it as long as it lasts. 

There’s a beat, and Jonas wonders where this is going. If they’re scanning the script and picking out where to go next. There’s a tiny touch of triumph that he’s thrown them off. 

_Would you._  
_Like her back?_  


Jonas hesitates. This is a devil’s bargain if he’s ever heard one. “Shit-” There’s a pounding in his head. Jonas winces, eyes shut tight against the sharp pain at the base of his skull. He thinks maybe— maybe part of him is missing for a second. And God, he really hopes this means he’s back in the good timeline. But when he opens his eyes, that doesn’t appear to be the case. 

-

There’s a resounding pop, and then laughter. Confused, punchy laughter. “Well. It took you long enough to figure out our little charade, didn’t it, Soldier? So,” Grass crunches underneath sneakers as teal hair brushes past Jonas. Not-Alex is back. Of course, there’s always something off, but that just means nothing new is happening. These seem more… poignant, though. More grounded in reality.

When she about-faces, her necklaces are gone. “And look what you’ve done to her, the poor dear.” Not-Alex lifts her hands up, tucking hair back into a ponytail. There are dark purple bruises all along her neck, and they just trail down, down, down… But her eyes are red. She still isn’t quite herself, even if she’s a close copy. 

Jonas’s jacket is discarded over the edge of the cliff. Stark, raised marks are still on the inside of her wrist where she’d shown him before, back at the tower, but pressed over them are fingerprints. _His_ fingerprints. The fly of her jeans is undone. The button is still closed. “Naughty, naughty, Soldier. Sleeping around on duty.”

///

“Alright. I know what you’re doing. I know your game. Where did you take him?” Alex’s voice is snapping, annoyed, as she takes a step forward. The triangle is closed now, and Ren is on the ground, but she doesn’t bother helping him up. He can get up on his own. He’s a big boy now, or whatever.

_Sleepy Time Gal._   
_Misses her._   
_Soldier._   


Her face twists in an absolutely scalding glare. There isn’t even a person to glare at, just a big void in the sky. When the images glitch together, turn red, she isn’t scared. She doesn’t even care. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. And you’re gonna give him back. Because if you don’t, we’re gonna have some fucking issues.” As in bigger than Jupiter itself issues. Jonas is hers. Jonas is _hers._

No way in hell is she going to let some stupid sub ghosts take him.

Then she hears the rumbling.

_You can._   
_Have._   
_Him._   


-

His joints pop, stretching into himself. “You know, the other side of things is very interesting.” It’s conversational, casual, but too smooth, too confident. “He’s having a great time. Sent a bit back for you.” Not-Jonas wiggles his fingers in a mockery of a wave, grinning. “The two of you are really…” The grin turns to a smirk; “...attached. Closer than the average relationship, wouldn’t you say?”

Glancing down, he - they - it - notices something in the most dramatic bitch way possible. “Oh! We— we seem to have forgotten.” He’s wearing the jacket that she’s wearing. Sheds it without thought. “Whoops.” The thing advances on her. “You know, she’s wearing his jacket there, too. Or… she was. These things… they get thrown aside so easily when boys have a one-track mind.”

\\\\\

“That’s—” Jonas’s face is on fire, and he’s very quickly averting his eyes, “Look, I know it’s not - _you’re_ not - her, okay? This is— this is pointless.” He turns for a second, trying to pick a fixed point, ends up staring at the top of the speakers ten feet away. “Shit-” It’s tugging at the back of his mind, pulling at him, a tether to something else that’s really fucking annoying. 

“Look I— we don’t have time for this. Just stop it. You’re wasting your-” _time,_ “-energy.”

-

Not-Alex nearly grins ear to ear. “Such a vulnerable place to pick. Why would you turn your face from the thing that wants you most?” This time, she’s silent when she moves, snaking an arm around Jonas’s waist while the other curves over his shoulder. It’s trapping, and her nails dig into the softer parts of his chest through the hoodie. “Alex is having so much fun with you, on the other side. Wouldn’t you want a little slice of what it’s like?”

Her voice is cooing close to his neck, and even though she shouldn’t really be giving off heat, not-Alex feels like a furnace. Pressed up against him far too close for comfort, when she knocks their heads together in a play from the real person’s old affectionate book. “This is the way you wanted her. To like you. To love you. Maybe, if you just be a good Soldier…”

There isn’t a need to finish the sentence. Not-Alex’s nails dig in harder, and something like a croon comes from the back of her throat.

-

Jonas clenches his jaw, every muscle in him tensed as she wraps herself around him. It makes his skin crawl. It does. But… 

He’s awful. Horrible. Repulsive, repugnant, all the bad words in the book. Because when not-Alex does that thing - the not-quite-nuzzling thing that she’s so prone to doing— It’s like a visceral response, some combination of hate and want and he just— It’s pathetic, so pathetic, and as soon as the whimper leaves his lips he’s pulling away. God, they’re just… 

He shakes his head, backing up, no longer secure with having his back to her. Nope. Gotta keep her in his sights so she - shit, no, _it_ \- can’t get close again. It’s like circling a wild animal. Christ, isn’t she? At this point, isn’t that what they’ve made her? Something feral and inhuman?

-

It tuts at him, and extends a hand, wriggling one finger to beckon him closer. “You act like we didn’t hear that. We hear everything. And we know what you want.” Though it pauses, laughs, and then goes for the still-pulled-up hair. “It seems we’d forgotten two differences. That’s rare for us to miss.” 

When its hair hits its shoulders, not-Alex looks ethereal. Not the saint she was before, with the white light flickering behind her head; now the triangle is shifted just so in a way that makes it look like she has horns. A devil. Her eyes wink out, back to the chocolate brown hue of normalcy, as she stalks forward. She has all the strength that the real one doesn’t, and it’s obvious in the way she moves. Too feminine, when she sways her hips as she walks toward him, starting to remove her shirt. “Do you like her better now, Soldier? Is she closer to what you want?”

///

Oh god. What the hell. What the actual fuck. Alex backs up, a confused look on her face. “What— No, I-” Her spine hits the end of the relay point. She doesn’t take her eyes off of whatever thing has Jonas in its grasp. There isn’t much she can say to that, not really, but she steels herself and holds up the radio in one hand. “I can just make you go away. I can get you out of him, and it will all go back to normal. You don’t have shit on me.”

Wherever her voice is coming from, she prays to God it stays, because it doesn’t look like the radio is working. Hell, it doesn’t even look like the radio is _on._ She smacks it a bit against the wall, and the lights underneath the screen flash, but they don’t stay on. C’mon. C’mon, it’s old, but it has to work. It has to. It can’t just— Not now. It can’t cut out on her now. Not when he needs her like he does, not when whatever has a hold on him is just too much.

-

“You’re easy to take, Alexandra. Did you know that? Little pieces of you, falling away… Leaking out of that head of yours... Shifting to where they’re needed…” He’s not even fazed by her threats. That cocky smile, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, like he’s done this a thousand times before. “It’s fun, because you want it. Or part of you does, at least. _She_ does. … _You_ do.” There a second where he turns his eyes - those glowing, haunted eyes - away from her, and relaxes for a second. When he lets out a short huffed breath of a laugh, there’s no ethereal echo. It’s too eerily human. But then the thing is wrong again. 

“You know, he really loves you. Too much, he thinks.” Again, he advances, and there’s nowhere else for her to run. A finger wraps itself in carribbean blue hair. Gives it a teasing tug. “Far too much.” 

-

It’s the tugging that drags her back to herself again. It’s too real, too much like the feeling in the classroom, and Alex jumps— Which makes her drop the radio she’s been fiddling with. The desperation to catch a frequency meant she hadn’t been paying attention when not-Jonas rounded on her. The thing clatters once, twice, and then stops altogether as she stares into bright red eyes. It silences her completely. Whatever quip Alex had dies in her mouth with a soft sounding strangle of air, and all she can do is look. 

“You aren’t him.” Her voice comes out softer than she means it to, shaking, and she presses herself as far back against paneled wood as she can. “None of you are. He’s somewhere else, you said that yourself. You’re lying.” They have to be lying. This isn’t possible. This is just some— Some time break. One that she’ll get out of soon. Yeah. Just a time break. Just some odd loop. “He’s gone.”

Alex holds onto that thought, even with it breathing down her neck. But it still smells like him. Cigarette smoke and oak resin.

-

“Do you _want_ him gone, Alexandra?” His voice is like a coo, a murmur, something gentler than should be possible, and his hand moves down her neck. “We can make him gone. He’s half-lost already, when it comes to you.” He watches her closely, calculating, a thumb stroking across her cheek. 

“You told him you loved him.” His— its face is close, very close, one hand penning her in as his lips graze her ear. “He couldn’t tell you how he really felt. How all he wanted to do— ...horrible things, really.” He’s grinning, but it’s all mockery and vicious satisfaction. “If you could see into him like we do… Every thought he’s had, pushed away, right into our open arms. Every impulse he stopped before it could run its course.” His lips are practically on her skin, the vibration of too many voices humming against her. 

\\\\\

Fuck. Christ. This— nope. No, nope. This was— is— Jonas swallows hard, stumbles in his retreat, but recovers. But isn’t that just the name of the game with her? He’s always trying to run away, trying to get back on track. A hand runs through his hair, closing in on desperation, trying to get the thoughts out of his head, put them— anywhere else. _Anywhere._

He can’t think straight. His head is filled with thoughts of her, and this not-her is— too close. Too similar. There’s no purpose to it, he knows it won’t do any good, he can feel himself failing, but he shakes his head. “You’re not her.” He doesn’t bother trying to lie, to say that he doesn’t want her. He doubts they’d believe him. 

-

She has him now, and she knows she does. It’s simple enough to trap him when he isn’t looking, to hook a leg around his waist and tip his chin toward her with a stray finger. Her shirt has been lost somewhere in the grass, but that only seems to make her warmer, more grounded in the world. “You can’t hide from this. Not now. She’s having just as much of a challenge, we assure you, but there isn’t any running.” Not-Alex’s voice loses its echo of triplets.

It’s more evident now, the differences they’ve put in her. There are bite marks, bruises, handprints— Everywhere. And they’re all his. They all match Jonas perfectly. She still has that tropical smell, the same wind-blown ocean from the ferry, like they haven’t corrupted a mirror image of what she’s supposed to be. 

“It’s just one little moment. Something she won’t ever know about. Wouldn’t you want that? Just one little moment for yourself. To indulge.” And that’s when not-Alex kisses him. It’s slow, sweet, and she tastes like honey. The hand still holding onto his head tugs at locks of hair, scratches, in the same way she would. It croons again.

-

He shouldn’t trust her— _it,_ shouldn’t trust _it,_ goddammit. He tries to remind himself that this isn’t her, that this is 97— 85 officers, 12 passengers, he has it memorized, he knows it by heart, it should be so simple to put two and two together and get a fuckload of _not Alex,_ but it’s— it’s really… really difficult.

He can’t push her off. Doesn’t even try. He’s already broken his self control once tonight, he’s not so strong to have built it all up from scratch again. He wants to be angry, wants to— but can’t. Not at first. He’s so soft, so weak for her. Jonas’s breath catches in his throat, but he barely hesitates before kissing her back. Whispering her name, like he can trick himself into believing it’s real. His hands move of their own accord, tamely enough, cupping her face in his hands, running his fingers through her hair, holding on to whatever false image he’s made for himself.

-

Triumph. That’s what shines through her, when she tangles one hand in the fabric of his hoodie and the other winds through his hair. Of course it isn’t real. Of course this will all end once they get what they want. But one has already succumbed. It’s only a matter of time before Alex - the real Alex - does what they want her to do. This can just be an added perk for their little Soldier. Getting a craving filled. She uses her weight to push him back, enough to pin him against the relay station wall, and there’s a smile on her lips when she just keeps kissing him.

No need to breathe when you’re already dead. Even if she gives him the chance to. Cooing, petting over the back of his head, she murmurs, “I love you.” It isn’t the same as the rest of the voices. It’s Alex. Something she’s said before, in her breathless little manner, when she’d thought their next step was going to be death. But it wasn’t, of course, the sunken need all of these people alive. But they can toy with the two a little bit longer. Again, softer now; “I love you, Jonas.”

///

“It— No, I don-” She can’t think of what to say. She can’t think of anything anymore. Not with the thing so close, and the voices so close, and they were always more distant than that weren’t they? Of course she doesn’t want Jonas gone. She wants him here. What Alex doesn’t want is whatever thing is possessing him right now, making him not-Jonas, making him do and say whatever— whatever _this_ is. Her breath comes in shallow clips, as she whips her head away from it, tries to disentangle her hair— But it only tugs.

Not-Jonas has a strong grip, like he’s digging talons into her side, and he isn’t letting go. It, he, whatever she’s calling it now. She doesn’t know anymore. God, when has she ever known? About any of this? But there are those little moments she’s chosen to forget. When he’s gotten a bit too close, or jumped at nothing, or— Or something else. It’s not like she can deny it. She can ignore it, sure, push it away like they say he does. But she can’t just say that there isn’t _something._ Whatever that something is.

Alex squeezes her eyes shut, balls her hands into fists, and just waits. He isn’t going to earn another response yet. Not now. She just— She needs a minute, and she knows she won’t get it, but— Fuck.

-

He’s too close, far too close, not even trying to hide it anymore, nuzzling against her neck. “Alex-” It’s not the voices of the Sunken, it’s him— it’s _his_ voice from somewhere else, and it’s breathless and pained and so so hopeful. A noise that shouldn’t be coming out of a mouth grinning against her skin. It doesn’t fit, but she can’t see it only feel it, only feel that quick exhale of air, and it’s not clear if it’s a sigh or a laugh. It’s something. 

“Stay here. Just… let it happen. It’s so much easier this way. He wants things from you, you want things from him, and that won’t happen if you leave. It can’t. You know it can’t, Alexandra. You can never have what you want, unless you take it.”

-

Let _what_ happen? She doesn’t— Alex doesn’t get it, because when has she ever gotten it? When has it ever occurred to her that she can even get what she wants if she wants it, when she wants it? Because there is no way in hell she’ll admit it to herself, but Alex wants this. Wants Jonas. She has for a long time. Since everything went to hell in a handbasket, and she doesn’t know what’s going on anymore, but it just hasn’t ever happened. She’s never gotten the time. “I’m sorry.”

Her knee jerks up and into the thing’s stomach. She doesn’t know if she’s hurting Jonas, or if that will even change anything, but she just needs it to stop. It feels like hitting metal, and Alex yelps when she can’t stand anymore, sliding down the wall and onto the ground. It’s broken her out of the trance, but not-Jonas still has her by the hair, and she screams when it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Not now. No crying now. Cry later. Get the real person she wants back now.

-

He hooks an arm around one of hers, drags her back up. His voice should be strained with the effort, but it’s not. “We don’t understand why you’re fighting, Alexandra. You want this. You stay with us, come with us, and you can have him.” His head cocks to the side, looking sad, pitying. “He’d do it for you, you know.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Stay. Keep a pale facsimile.” His fingers entwine with hers, trying this new, softer approach. “You said you’d trade your life for his; now is the time to follow through.” 

\\\\\

God, he’s lost. He’s utterly and completely lost in her. “I—” He chokes on the word, trying to remember, trying to pull himself out of it. But she’s—

He shakes his head. No- nope, this… this is— God, it’s so hard to resist this. He doesn’t want to, not really, he knows he doesn’t want to, but he _should,_ he needs to because… There are reasons. He’s sure there are reasons. Jonas just can’t think of them at the moment. And it’s really frustrating. Because something is wrong, but he doesn’t want to stop. 

He was melting. Sinking into something else, losing himself, disappearing into something soft and gentle. Not gonna happen. No more soft and gentle. If they’re gonna play, they’re gonna play to win. If he’s gonna suffer through this, she’s sure as hell not gonna be in charge. 

He can barely breathe, but he does anyway, grips hard onto her shoulders and pulls— turns— pushes her up against the building. 

“Say it again.” 

-

Oh. That’s new. Not-Alex doesn’t put up any resistance, and she has to drop the grin fast so that she can actually sell what she’s doing before he snaps out of it again. Her face goes softer, more in the style of the person she’s trying to mimic, lips half parted and breath coming in slow bursts. But something on the other side is going wrong. That isn’t going to make this any easier. She dredges up the memory again, her arms stuck to her sides in the hold that Jonas has on her now. That doesn’t change a single thing.

“I love you.” This time, she’s able to change the way it sounds. A breathless, reedy string of words that sounds far too much like a moan than it really should. More power is being drawn, and it’s getting easier and easier to alter things in a way that makes her hair stand on end. But Jonas wouldn’t notice that. Of course he wouldn’t. Not-Alex has him by the throat, and he wants it, the poor brute. Too easy.

-

Jonas winces. Closes his eyes. Tries to forget, tries to remember, tries… just tries. His grip on her tightens, and there’s a brief touch of pain when he leans his head against the wall beside her, a bit too forcefully. His throat is caught and he swallows. He’s crowding into her space, turns his head, feels her hair brushing his lips. 

His jaw tightens. When he speaks, it’s hoarse— broken and angry.

“Again.”

-

Not-Alex is making the best of a situation both completely in and out of her control. Jonas wants this. He’s given in, stopped running, and that’s exactly what was needed. But now he has physical control. Over what she can do, how she can approach him. That doesn’t really matter. She leans her head against his again, butting them together, still the same way she’d do it. And this time, when she’s murmuring the words, she doesn’t stop. Repeats them in Alex’s voice, over and over, all adoring and soft and oh so gentle.

She’s giving him exactly what he wants, and it’s the easiest thing she’s ever done. Because he’s the one that let her in.

///

It isn’t him. She knows it isn’t him, the thing even says it isn’t him. But it’s… It’s too soft. It’s just like Jonas, in every way other than one, and she’d made a deal. There isn’t any getting out of a deal, Alex knows that. “You… You promise you won’t take him.” 

She leans forward enough to nudge her forehead against his chin, like she usually would. There isn’t an expected reaction, especially not a normal one, but it’s the best she can do. The fight in her is gone. Her knee aches, and her head feels like there’s a hot iron inside it, and maybe if she just stays still for long enough it will all go away. Of course it won’t. She knows it won’t. So she does the next best thing instead. Repeats her actions from the classroom, lingering hands on his arms, until they wrap around his shoulders and stay there. 

Finally, she’s looking at him. Really, really looking at him, and her eyes say everything her mind doesn’t. All of those taboos she’s just been ignoring, or at least trying to ignore, just pour out of her. It isn’t worth attacking him anymore. Hell, it isn’t worth anything anymore. She’d made a deal. She has to keep it.

-

It takes more energy than the ghosts want to admit, but they want to reward her for her decision. The red light fades. His fingers come up, brush her face, and his smile is genuine, it’s a mirror of his earlier: a little sad, a lot of words unspoken. He cradles her in his arms, a hand stroking her hair. “I’m okay. We’re okay.” It’s easy to sift through memories and find words of encouragement. “I can be better.” 

It’s easy enough to mimic him. He’s right there, a moment ago, a pliable as could be. He pulls back a second, gives that nervous smile, that ‘we’re getting out of here alive,’ look. 

It’s the appearance part— the eyes, it’s the eyes, they think, that are taking too much to hold. Too much. And they slip. For a fraction of a second 97 mixed up souls forget who’s talking, and the words drop like lead in her own voice. “ _I love you._ ” They’re soft and sweet and don’t belong where they’ve ended up. 

\- 

It hurts. It hurts so, so much, hearing herself through his mouth. It hurts even worse when she realizes she doesn’t care. The deal was struck, her die was cast, and that is just how she’s going to end up. A puppet for the things that lurk around in the dark. And Alex doesn’t care. Slowly, she nods, like her head is full of cotton. She knows what’s wrong with the picture, but it’s… it’s so close to him. They tried so hard, and they got so close. Almost pitiable. She _does_ pity them. Maybe did. Maybe a long time ago, when she first came to the island.

So she kisses them. She doesn’t know what else to do. But it isn’t even like kissing them. It’s like kissing _him._ All chapped lips and cigarettes and everything she’s imagined it would be when she finally convinced herself to do it. Not when she was egged on by a bunch of ghosts and used as a vessel and whatever else they had planned. She doesn’t try to resist it, anyway. Even if she pulls away quickly.

“The Sleepy Time Gal loves you, too.”

-

He’s still for a moment. Silent. The smile is gone, replaced by a look of careful consideration. “We think—” 

“I think-”

“You will wait—”

“Just a moment, I promise.”

\\\\\

It’s not— He’s not trying to hurt her. He really isn’t. He’s mad at them - it - sure, but not Alex. But he’s mad at himself. Frustrated that he’s so willing. 

They showed him marks. He’ll give her marks. 

His lips are on her skin, teeth, tongue, tasting her and— God, why, why is he— but he’s got a knee between her legs and his nails are short but they’re digging into her arms. She’s not fighting him. He kind of wishes she was, so he’d get his shit together and just _stop._

But she doesn’t. 

His hand is buried in her hair in an instant, because why bother holding her there, really, when she’s going to stay no matter what he does. Because she’s _not Alex._ She’s just— she’s just there. And he’s going along with it, ‘cause he can’t stop himself - doesn’t want to stop himself—

She hesitates for a moment and he presses against her, pulls her hair back, bites harder, growling. “Again. Say it again.” Because if he’s going to do this - and God, it certainly looks that way - he needs to know that—

God. What the fuck is wrong with him. 

_That it’s okay._

-

She says it again. And again. And again. In just the ways she knows will tick him off. She may not be able to move, but she doesn’t resist in the slightest, trying to at least spin her head around and suck bruises into the side of his neck. But it’s too much of a crane. So she grinds herself down onto Jonas’s knee, hands gripping at air, and all of it’s fake. All of it. Of course, he still doesn’t care. But her eyes keep flickering from chocolate brown to red, on and off, like that broken radio. The one that Alex had just been using. It shouldn’t be happening now. Anna shouldn’t be interfering now.

No matter. She will be silenced soon enough.

///

Alex sits to attention underneath the waves. The Kanaloa rests in the distance, split in two, and Anna is across from her. “Well. At least you’re up now, dear. You took quite a spin when they did that to you.” Alex holds onto her head, trying to remember what had just been happening. Before the ocean, before she could actually— Oh.

“Anna. You’re- you’re Anna, right? The one working with Maggie? How did you— What even—” Her voice is giving out on her.

“All in due time. All in due time. But for now, your Jonas is in trouble. And you need to get to him.” Bright red shifts open behind her. Alex recognizes it easily. A rift. Anna stands herself up, sighing as she pats the younger girl on the head, and begins to walk away. “I’m too weak to do much more for you than this, I’m afraid. But you can get to him now.”

Alex is on her feet in seconds, and there are a million questions she wants to ask, but there isn’t any time for answers. Anna is already gone. So she looks back and forth, forth and back, between the rift and deep black water. Then, she exits the void.

* * *

There are teeth on her neck. “Ow— Jonas, Jonas it’s me— Fuck, ow _ow_ — It’s Alex!”

[ ](https://h4mm132l1c3.tumblr.com/tagged/oxenfree)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YessIlovethischapterohmygoddd. 
> 
> So. It kinda feels like now is the time to up the rating to M? But I have a question for you guys: since there isn't any explicit smut at any point, should there be a tag used to convey that? If so- what the hell is it? Is it just... "no smut"? (If you can't tell, I'm relatively new to the concept xD) And in other news... So. >.> Whaddya think? Hit us up with comments, questions, anything and everything, all emojis accepted. ❤ Thanks for sticking with us!  
> \- OWT


	10. Chapter 10

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187064413990/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**TEN**

Jonas feels it like a snap in the air, when they’re suddenly gone. It’s not like before, it’s not a gradual return to consciousness, it’s sudden and swift and like cold air blasting into his soul because— 

“Oh my god-” He takes his hands off of her in an instant, stepping back, eyes wide, looking like he’s turning himself in to the police or something. His mouth opens to apologize, to try to explain, but he’s interrupted. 

“What the _fuck._ What the actual _fuck_ is wrong with you two?!” 

Jonas’s head snaps aside, eyes wide at Ren’s appalled expression, and he’s not sure if he’s turning red or white, but it’s definitely one of those ‘cause things are— things are hitting him. Some part of him that was gone has been violently stuffed back into his head, sounding like humming and radio feedback, and- shit, was he— There’s definitely a couple tears on his face. Angry tears. Hopeless tears. Most of them are gone now, but he still swipes the back of his hand across his cheeks, ‘cause he feels the way his skin tightened under them. 

“Seriously dude— what the fuck- Alex, put your _fucking_ shirt on, IsweartoGod-”

-

She makes a noise that sounds like choking, wrapping her arms around her (thankfully still mostly covered) chest. Seems like the Sunken got a whole lot further with him than they did with her. That isn’t what has her worried. “Ren, holy shit, shut the fuck up! It was the weird fucking ghosts, they— God, I dunno what they did, it— And Anna?” Alex looks almost hopelessly at Jonas, and then back to Ren, and then finally decides on scurrying over to get her shirt.

Once it’s back over her head and settled, like it’s supposed to be, she speed walks her way over to Jonas’s jacket. It’s hanging off of the edge of a root near the cliff, and Alex plucks it off, pulling it over her shoulders before Ren just… starts talking again.

“I don’t _care_ if it was the ghosts, Alex, that was just— That will be in my head forever, okay? That was just wrong! I mean him and you, and you and him, and—” She socks him in the jaw. He goes down with a yelp.

She doesn’t even feel bad about it.

-

Jonas just stares. For a long second. “Um.” The whole punching-her-best-friend bit really threw off his plans of begging for forgiveness. He can’t look at her without remembering it, and God— now would be the perfect time to forget something, wouldn’t it. “I…” he croaks. “It’s not… She—”

* * *

It feels about similar to getting hit in the head with a frying pan. Probably. 

“Jesus fucking-” Jonas is on the ground, rubbing his head, and Alex is the one with the radio. Ren isn’t nursing a glass jaw, everyone seems to be fully clothed… Okay. Back to… something. Hopefully the good something. The best timeline. The swap over was… unpleasant, to say the least.

“Why?!” Ren is at least on script now, and not scarred for life. Well… probably not. No more than the rest of them. “Why is this— _why—_ actually, thanks for coming by the way-”

-

“Sure.”

“-Why is this happening? I mean, I’ve been here— I’ve visited this place like fifteen times!” 

Ren is screeching, and Alex wants to make it stop, but she doesn’t. Instead, she paces her way over to Jonas, offering him a hand with a mouthed, ‘ _They did the same thing to you, didn’t they?_ ’ Because of course they would. But Anna… What had happened to Anna? 

“And before now, the worst thing that ever happened was, like… a kid would lose his shorts to the undertow.”

“Ren, honestly, I don’t know what’s happening. I haven’t known what’s happening the past fifteen times I’ve done this. I tune into something in the cave, temporal anomalies occur, Jonas and I have to fix them, and then we all go home. Hopefully.” She isn’t on script now. She never wants to be on script again.

-

Jonas only shakes his head at Alex. He doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to _talk_ about it, for sure. Would really rather that it had never happened. 

“What— what do you mean? Did you— did you curse the island? Did you _curse this island,_ you _witch_ you!”

“Seriously, Ren. Not kidding. Shit’s all fucked sideways and… God, how do the rest of you not feel it?” He’s too happy. And then Jonas remembers those fucking brownies. 

“Feel what?”

“Feel—” He lets out a deep breath. “I dunno. All of it. All the time. The loops.”

-

Her eyebrows furrow at Jonas’s reaction, but she doesn’t push further. Instead, she tugs him up onto his feet, and then promptly goes looking through Ren’s bag. “Hey, hey! Watch it now—” There they are. Stupid fucking things. Brownies. Whatever he likes to call them. Ren can make more when they get home.

“Whoops,” she mutters, and then chucks them over the cliff’s edge. “My hands must have slipped, ooh, so sorry about that Ren! Looks like that was your last one! Now, we go. We vamoose. Back to Harden tower people, c’mon, we don’t wanna be late!” 

“But— Alex, those were my only-”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know they were, that was the fucking point you doped up ass. Start walking.” Alex shoves at his shoulders, and he lets out a rather undignified whine, before starting to walk again. She gives Jonas a look of exasperation at the entire debacle. 

-

Jonas manages a weak smile. But that’s about all he’s got. Christ, he can’t even look at her. Not without remembering things, thinking things, hearing her voice. He groans a little, to himself. It’s lost in the feedback from the speakers as Nona announces her presence with the most awkward message known to man. 

“Nona?” Ren, as per usual, is surprised. 

“Yeah. In the tower. That’s why we’re heading there.” He may be just a touch on edge. Maybe a tiny bit sulky. 

Ren glances between the two of them. “Did I… Did I miss something? Are you already— is he already out of the fam, Alex? ‘Cause that seems a little hasty.”

-

“What? No—” She groans when there’s more feedback from Nona talking over the speakers. “No, he’s not. Just, with the ghosts and everything, shit’s been a little tense, okay? Jonas is still very much my dear dear stepbrother, and I still love him.” There’s that word again. Love. It hurts a bit. More than it should.

The Greeks said there were so many different kinds of love, and yet the world as a whole really focuses on three. Eros, Agape, and one she can’t really remember right now. Fitting, since she never paid attention in class. So she keeps Ren busy for a while, until he picks up his pace with the excuse of finding Nona, and Alex drops back to walk beside Jonas. For a moment, she can’t really think of what to say. At all. Then she sighs, shakes her head, and starts maybe the most awkward conversation of her life.

“Look. I know you probably don’t wanna talk about this, like— at all. Ever again. But this, to me, it can’t really… go unspoken. And I may as well be the first to admit it, because you are probably way better at this than I am, and— Ugh.” She knows where she’s going with this. And it sucks, because she just can’t figure out how to get there. “Okay. …When I say I love you, I mean it. I do. But not in— Not in like, a familial way? Just. Yeah. That. There.”

-

He feels every inch of him bristle when she heads in his direction. He’s not a huge fan of Ren, but he’d be a hell of a lot happier catching up with him than dealing with… whatever this is. 

Jonas feels the muscles in his jaw start to twitch. Nope. Doesn’t really want to talk about it. Really would rather not. But she keeps on going, and he’s staring ahead, and feeling the guilt eating away at him because Jesus— was she just— did she just— 

What he did? That wasn’t right. _He_ wasn’t right. 

He lets her get out the _I love you,_ but that’s about all he can take before he’s jogging to catch back up with Ren. “Hey. Let’s talk Alex stories. Give me the dirt.” If he can just avoid talking to her for a bit, that would be… swell.

-

“Jonas— Jonas, goddammit, can we just-” And he’s gone. She’s lost him. Well. That’s more than infuriating. Ren launches into a story about the time she stole a car to go to a concert, and then another one about how she skipped her exam day to see his band perform their opening act. She lags behind. Normally, she isn’t one to isolate herself when angry, but this seems like the time to do it. Throughout the last leg of the trip, she’s alone, kicking at pebbles and scraping up dirt with a look like she’s about to kill a man. 

She doesn’t even go to Harden Tower. She swivels off toward Main Street, once they’re in view, and decides maybe it’s better if she just leaves everyone out of her bullshit from now on. Maybe it’s better if Ren, Nona and Jonas bond while she’s away. So that they won’t be so scared when she moves on. When she just doesn’t exist anymore. She knows what she has to do, and it’s the most off script move she can make. Easy choice, easy outcome.

-

Shit. Where— She was with them, right? “Alex was… She was just here, wasn’t she?” They’re past the no-longer-electric fence, nearly at the base of the tower. 

“Hm?” Ren looks around. “No, yeah, she was. Why? Why wouldn’t she be?”

Jonas stops in his tracks, and just gives him a hard look. “Just let that marinate for a second.”

“…Oh, right. Wibbly wobbly timey wimey nonsense.”

“What, like you’re not worried about her? We don’t even know where she went!” His voice is rising and he tries to shake off the general irritation that always comes right about now. 

“She’s Alex! She’ll be fine, she’s always fine!”

Jonas pinches the bridge of his nose because he just _can’t_ with this right now. “I swear to god, Ren, you and your _fucking_ brownies-”

“Hey! They level me out! Tonight has been hella stressful, okay?”

“You think I don’t know that?! I—” He lets out a groan of frustration. “I can’t. You just— Fine. Fine, you stay here and— and I’ll go get Alex.”

Ren’s forehead creases. “Well wait, I didn’t say-”

“Yeah you did. You think she’ll be fine. In that case, she’ll be fine whether I go or not.”

He can’t exactly argue with that. And Jonas isn’t in the mood to argue, anyway. But hey, bright side: he didn’t need to deal with all of this at the top of the tower and then climb down again. How efficient. 

He glares at Ren until Ren finally gives up, turns and starts climbing. “We’ll be back. There’s a— there’s a radio we need.” Right. They’ll figure it out. Ren and Nona will have the aha moment without them, radio out that they need the keys… Jonas sighs. Yeah, fine. Whatever.

Jogging back out to the field, he glances both ways and then heads toward the Sentry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one, but (hopefully) a good one. So. Just about halfway through it all, now. Wow.  
> As always, thanks so much to every who's left comments, bookmarked, reblogged, etc. etc. I get all warm and fuzzy when those aesthetics I spent way too long making get any attention over on Tumblr, and each and every comment has me grinning ear to ear, so... thank you. ❤  
> -OWT


	11. Chapter 11

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187137417705/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**ELEVEN**

Alex hops the fence, and she knows what happens after this, but there’s more that she can do now. She’s tired of this. She’s tired of fighting, and ghosts, and everything else that liked to fuck with them. So she's doing this alone, for everyone’s sake. For Jonas’s sake, so he doesn’t have to deal with— well, whatever they're dealing with. Halfway down main street sits Clarissa on her lamp post. Without someone to point out her cutting figure, she doesn’t engage at all, instead making a beeline for the door and starting to shove at it.

_We. Missed you._   
_Sleepy Time Gal._   
_Do you. Still love._   
_Us?_

The words make her pause in her ministrations. She’d thought that was just a dream, or something they would forget. Apparently, she hasn’t been that easily forgotten. The lamp flickers, and dies. Alex is shoving at a door in the dark, but there isn’t any response.

_We. Still love._   
_You._   
_You are still. Ours._   
_Our. Sleepy Time Gal._

Alex wants to bite at them to shut up. To try and convince them that she’d said that because they looked like Jonas, because they were manipulating her, and it’s… She just can’t. Not right now.

-

She’s not at the Sentry, and she’s not by the bunker, and— fine, okay, he’ll just be the boy running after her, that’s his _thing_ now, it’s always his thing; following Alex and trying not to die.

It’s a steady jog down through the fields, past the cliffs, and up and over the fence. He’s maybe not awake enough to be this active at this time of night. He rolls up his sleeves, tries to wake up his too-tired limbs. He’s halfway down to main street when he’s made acutely aware of the current ghost situation.

“Seriously, Alex? You can’t just-” He halts by her side, turning his glare from her to Clarissa, “-Leave well enough alone?” Tonight has tested his patience. He has failed. “What the _fuck_ do you want?” he spits at the redhead perched on the lamp like some kind of stupid mockingbird.

-

Alex opens her mouth to respond to him, and that’s when the door opens. She’s sent in a spill into the next room over, but pops her head back out to speak up. “Well, clearly, you ju-”

_Alex._   
_We. Want._   
_Alex._

“...Oh.” The word is more of a breath than anything, and Clarissa’s eyes turn toward her. The heat comes over her in a wave again, and she presses her pointer fingers to her temples, hissing through her teeth. Ow. Ow ow ow. Why did they always have to do this?

_You. Are getting in the way. Jonas._   
_We want. Alex. We always._   
_Get. What we want._   
_She. Is ours. Now._   
_Alex. Is ours. Now._   
_She. Loves. Us._

-

“Bullshit.”

It’s what he does now, apparently. Stepping between Alex and danger. “You’re not getting her. You’re not getting any of us.” He wonders if they can hear the ever repeating chant of _fuck you fuck you fuck you_ going in his head.

-

Slowly, she shakes her head. This isn’t right. None of this is right, and it doesn’t make sense— Alex just needs the radio. She just needs the radio, that’s all, and then she can go back to being silent. But there’s another lingering question; why had Jonas followed her here?

 _Just like. She loves._  
_You._  
_She tried. To say it._  
_In. Towhee._  
_But you. Didn’t._  
_Listen._

-

Oh he listened. Too much. Way too much.

Jonas lowers his voice for a second, turning his head just slightly to address her. “Alex, get the radio.” He keeps his eyes on the thing that was Clarissa. Like he can stop her. Like he can do anything to 97 lost souls on the bottom of the sea.

-

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Alex has dipped inside and started for the WAL radio. She can only hear snippets of what they’re saying outside, and it’s too dark, too quiet in the building, but she knows where she has to look.

-

He’s shaking his head. Alex had said something, mentioned something as they came back to this timeline, what was it?

“Anna!” There’s no real good reason to shout, as he’s pretty sure that constant humming frequency is all in his head, but he’s not gonna talk nice with these assholes. “I want to talk to Anna!”

Clarissa’s head cocks to the side, and her smile is tight.

_Anna is… indisposed._

“Too fucking bad. Get her— on the line, or- however the fuck it works.”

The feedback is like needles, and he grits his teeth and puts his hands over his ears.

_You. Do not make demands._   
_Anna is ours._   
_Alex is ours._

“Yeah, well I think the fuck not.” If they weren’t dead, he’d probably kill them again.

_You are tired. Soldier._

They’re sneering, but it seems like maybe he might actually be getting to them. Or maybe he’s just wasted too much of their time.

_The exit is. Here._

They gesture over Clarissa’s shoulder. The propeller. The drop into the water.

_Consider it._   
_Dishonorable discharge._

Jonas feels like he’s been shaking his head all night. _No, no, no._ They’ve surpassed every last nerve he has. “You’re not— You don’t command me. You don’t command _anyone._ ”

-

Radio achieved. Now to save her friends.

Then she hears what they might make Jonas do. It’s like a clip in the back of her mind, playing in slow motion, and that’s just— It’s too much. It isn’t right. So she does the only thing she can think of. He’s been protecting her all night. It’s high time Alex took on the duty herself. “Actually, I think he’s been promoted.”

_Alex._   
_You’re back._   
_What are. You doing._

“Well, obviously, I’m doing this.” Step in front of Jonas, turn on the radio. She’s shaking. She doesn’t care that she is, but her brain keeps running through observations of the physical, like a checklist on a machine. Still up and humming like a barracuda. “Jonas isn’t discharged. He won’t be, until we leave here. But he has been promoted, from one rank to another, because he outsmarted you.”

-

Jonas’s fingers twitch. His gaze flicks from Clarissa to Alex and back again, because - wow, she’s— she just… Christ, it’s really hard to figure out what to do in these situations where he just wants to protect her and things are somehow always getting— worse? Maybe? Just… _weird._ But he holds back, hand hesitating, letting Alex do… whatever she’s doing. Kicking the hornet’s nest.

“You know... I’d really rather not be in the military at all… but…” It’s a nervous murmur, mostly to himself, because cracking wise is about the only thing he has control over right now and isn’t that shitty.

-

_Outsmarted_   
_Us. Outsmarted?_   
_You jest._   
_We cannot be. Outsmarted._   
_So easily._

Alex forces herself to grin that crooked grin. Something in Clarissa’s mind seems to snap. Her head twitches, twists, before slamming right back around to fix those bright red eyes like a spotlight onto her.

“I want to talk to Henry Griffin.”

_Hen. Ry?_   
_Henry?_   
_He. M_ _y name is…_   
_**Henry Griffin.** _

-

Whatever is happening to Clarissa, this isn’t normal. Well— okay, none of it has been _normal_ , but this is unusual even for the island. Even for the weird possession clusterfuck they’ve wandered into. This must tire them out, right? How do they keep doing it? He watches warily as Clarissa’s face shifts from one emotion to another, from cautious to angry to sneering to—

_You think. You can._   
_Contr—_

The speech is garbled, fractured, fizzing into static. Clarissa’s twitching and seizing and this is definitely different than before - but it’s like… like they’re trying to push things back on track.

_-pointing a radio-_   
_-might as well-_   
_-do what you-_

Jonas isn’t sure if it’s intentional (and he really hopes it isn’t) when Clarissa just stops talking. ‘Talking.’

When you’re off, the little machine has no more heart than a brain.

_No more heart… than…_

And she plummets. But this is nothing new. Jonas just stares. He’s not going near that. Nope.

-

Alex decides on staying where she is for a moment longer. If they’re back on script, then… “Jonas, take the radio. You’re gonna need it for this next bit.” She holds the little demon out to him, almost pushes it into his hands, and then marches steadily forward. Clarissa sits herself up. Something about the motion is too distorted. Maybe they’d really screwed up these fuckers worse than she’d thought.

“I’m fine, I can— …I’m fine.” Clarissa starts standing herself up, but the edges of her outline seem blurred. Too much, too fast.

“Okay, just take it slow. Take it really, really slow.” Even when the redhead tries to bat her hands away, Alex still helps her, wraps an arm around her shoulders and tugs. “‘Cause this is something new. For all of us, I think.”

“I- I remember— waiting at Fort Milner… and seeing you two?” She glances around, first to Alex, and then to Jonas. “How did I get here?”

“Creepy crawly ghosties burrowed their way into your skin, I’m afraid.”

Clarissa’s eyes pull open wider and wider by the second. At least they aren’t glowing red anymore. That would really make her freak out.

Alex feels the rewind before it happens. The air pressure drops rapidly, and her ears pop. Both she and Clarissa are sent to the ground, before—

“Wait, it’s Clarissa’s turn already?” Ren.

-

Jonas puts a hand to his head as they shift to a time that never quite was. “I… really hate that…” But he’s holding on to the radio, so… Well, no, it really doesn’t make it any better. This will play out. It always does. Ren gives him shit about juvie, implies that he’s a psycho— again. Just sort of how it goes. Or— No, there’s another way, too, in her loop. Something to do with—

“Alex. What did you do. Explain why me and my best friend, and your idiot best friend, and your new stepbrother are all screwed.”

Right. Clarissa being extra awful. There’s not much he can do but sit back and wait it out.

-

She does her absolute best to not panic right then and there. To start throwing around accusations, or to just try and run. That’s on script. That’s what usually happens. Apparently, Ren can pick up on that. He hasn’t taken a brownie yet, in this alternate timeline of tonight. The thought makes her stomach twist in a way she doesn’t like.

“Alex, you don’t have t-”

“No. No, Ren. I do. Jonas is owed an explanation. Everyone here is.” She settles herself on the ground, and Clarissa scoffs, the scowl on her face evident even in the low light. Nona looks pitying. She doesn’t need pity. She just needs to get it off her chest.

“We went to Horn Lake. Michael was leaving in a few days with Clarissa, and I wanted to be with him one last time. So we went swimming. It was always something we did together - just floating around, having fun, whatever the hell you wanna call it. And…” Alex bites out a scared laugh. She wants to hold onto Jonas right now. That would be too risky to do. Fuck. “I’ve never been the best at that. He was like— lifeguard levels of good. School swim team star levels of good. And I was a sitting fucking duck.”

There’s a pause. Clarissa looks flabbergasted at the fact that she’s actually talking about it, much less going into detail, and Ren puts a hand onto her shoulder. He’s encouraging, at least, and she manages a shaky smile his way. “So I stayed in the shallows. Michael tried to convince me to go out, to maybe come swimming with him _for real,_ like he always wanted me to. But I just couldn’t. I was just some— some scared kid, that didn’t know what she was doing. Of course that’s when it all went wrong.”

She shrugs. Alex’s voice is laced with tears, and Nona looks like she’s about to kill Clarissa, but the bitch is leaning in. Like there’s some sick kind of enjoyment she’s getting out of it. The thought haunts her. “I was still on the bowline. Michael went under, for I dunno how long, but I thought he was trying to prank me. I thought he’d pop back up any second, just waiting for the right time, and he… he never did. Turns out he was caught on something. A- A chain, I think, or— God. It doesn’t even matter what I think. I just watched. I just watched, and waited, and when the bubbles stopped—”

Alex chokes. Ren wraps his arms around her midsection, and he’s definitely going to kill Clarissa when they next see her, but she looks pale. Good. Fucking good. “I didn’t call anyone. I didn’t know what to do. So you know what, Clarissa? You can blame me all you want. It was my fault he died.”

Then she looks at Jonas. “I killed Michael. I killed my brother.”

-

He watches all of it from the sidelines. Just out of the glow of the fire, watching, listening, _witnessing._ ‘Cause that’s what he’s here for, isn’t it? To bear witness. To let them pummel away at any trust that might have developed between them, to watch them put Alex through her trials…

Jonas watches, and waits, and then it’s done. His face is impassive, stoic with just a touch of irritation, ‘cause seeing Alex suffer isn’t on his favorite things list, as he stands up.

“Right. Are we done here?”

“She’s a _pox_ , Jonas, she makes bad things—”

“I’m done with this, okay Clarissa? I don’t care. Say your creepy line. Put us back.”

She’s silent. Glaring. Everyone is too quiet.

It’s his line, they’re waiting on his line, the stupid little… robots. Just. Ugh. He rubs his forehead. Sighs. “‘We’re going to go home.’”

“No.”

He doesn’t respond. He’ll wait her out. He’s done with their rewinds and playacting, just done with all of it.

_All the outs in free…_

He doesn’t move, just closes his eyes, gritting his teeth as they’re zipped back to— well, one reality, anyway. “...Yeah. Creepy line.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tonight we finished reading the whole of this fic aloud to a friend for the first time, and it was _emotional_ so enjoy this chapter that I decided to post slightly earlier than I'd initially intended. ❤ As always lots of love to everyone leaving kudos and likes and comments and all of that. Your comment notifications fill my heart with glee.  
> Til next chapter!  
> -OWT


	12. Chapter 12

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187286910080/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**TWELVE**

It feels like waking up from a bad dream. There are still goosebumps on her skin, and she can feel tears welling up, and just— No.  _ No. _ God, she can’t even believe…  


Alex drops. She doesn’t bother trying to get up, and it skins her knees on the pavement, but she can’t bring herself to care. Was that really all she had to do? Was that what was waiting for her? Just that awful, terrible moment over and over and over again. Jonas still has the radio.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is mumbling, broken, and she stumbles over places where she didn’t even know she could. They should get moving again. They should be heading back to the tower, or to the Adler estate, to get rid of the problem ‘once and for all,’ but she doesn’t want to. She needs a minute. She’s not going to get a minute. “I’m sorry you’re st- stuck with a murderer who has a fucked up sense of self.” The one that caused all of this. The one that originally tuned in.

The ghosts seem to like how she is when she’s hopeless. Usually, she wouldn’t give in to that. Alex wouldn’t even think about it. She’d keep her mind off of it by moving, by going through the motions, but this time that isn’t an option. Now Jonas knows. He knows, and that is the worst thing possible.

She’s crying again.

-

He tried. He really really tried. Clenching his teeth and tightening his fists and letting it all beat against his walls, let it roll off his shoulders. But, Christ, she’s just— he can’t, with her. It’s not fair to her, to let her think he doesn’t care when he cares so  _ goddamned _ much.  


He takes a deep breath in, and when he lets it out all that pretense drops away. She’s not far, just a couple steps away, but he takes them slowly. “Alex…” He puts a hand on her head at first, but that’s just- just weird. So he sighs and sits down next to her. Their shoulders bump, rest against each other. Present. They’re both there, and they’re both present and… not alone.  


“You’re not a murderer, Alex. No one thinks you are.” She’s just hurting. They’re all hurting, and they want things to be some other way. They want to change the past, but the past can’t be changed. What’s done is done. So it goes.  


-

She certainly thinks she’s a murderer. She has, for a long time. The entire town thinks she is. Because if she’d just gone out to get him, if she was just a little bit more like Michael, then maybe he’d still be alive. Clarissa could still love him, and the rest of the community could dote on him, and she’d still have her brother. That’s what hurts the most. That she could still have him. And the ghosts are going to give her the chance to get him back. But it isn’t possible.

Jonas has given up his mom. She can give up Michael. She can move on, if she just… If she tries. The ghosts said she’d wanted a replacement for him. That isn’t what she’d wanted. When Jonas showed up in the pickup, Alex already knew he was nothing like Michael. And that lulled her a bit. It made her feel better, knowing that he was just as much of a black sheep as she was. It hasn’t changed anything now.  


Alex flinches for a moment, and then she seems to melt. Just curve over and grapple onto Jonas’s side, because that’s the only thing she can think to do, and he— He doesn’t think she killed Michael. To him, she’s not a murderer, not some horrible cursed Scarlet Letter protagonist, and it’s almost too much. But it’s out of relief. They still trust each other. They still have that multifaceted relationship that no one else can really pick up on. Thank God.

-

He shouldn’t be allowed to feel this way. To let her fall against him and just— just close his eyes, and take her in and, God, his heart is beating a mile a minute and it’s really not right. His arms close around her, because of course they do, he has to do it - he  _ wants _ to do it, but he  _ has _ to do it - and Jonas just… gives up.  


He swallows hard, trying to soothe her, to comfort her, and the Words are tickling the tip of his tongue because they need to be said, and he’s going to say it sooner or later, it’s not like he can put it off when the fact is constantly hitting him smack dab in the face. He forms the words behind closed lips, breathing her in. She’s crying still, so maybe— Christ, his heart is beating so hard he feels like it’s shaking his whole body. “I-” he croaks, but the words won’t come.  


_ I love you, _ and,  _ it’s not your fault, _ and  _ we’re getting out of here, we’re leaving here alive and I will make it happen, I will do anything for us to leave this place - for  _ _ you _ _ to leave this place - and no soul on earth or under the ocean is going to stop me. _

He feels like he’s swallowing fire. His grip tightens, a hand comes up to push her hair aside and he presses a kiss to her temple because God, there’s so many words to say and they’re all trapped in him.

-

At least her head doesn’t hurt anymore. It had before, when she was talking, it had felt like it was going to explode, but she’s okay now. Somewhat. Maybe not as much as she should be. Alex can feel it when he starts freaking out, though it might not be for the reasons she thinks, but that doesn’t make her care any less than she had already. Jonas is here. Jonas is here, and she isn’t alone, and that’s all she needs. To just face this with someone. Someone else that understands, that knows what’s going on, and… Fuck.

There is no way in hell people aren’t going to ask what took them so long to get to the Adler estate. She doesn’t even think about that, and really they would’ve taken a while anyways, with the ghosts and the loops and everything else. Hopefully Ren’s brownie has worn off by now. Hopefully he and Nona are at least having a better time than she is.

Alex does her best to stop crying quickly, but it’s too much too fast all over again, and she just wants to stay. She just wants to bottle up this little moment, and stay, because the ghosts don’t exist. There’s just the two of them. The feeling of skinned and aching everything, and that odd salty taste you get when you sob just a little too hard, and that always-there smell of smoke and oak resin. Probably refurbished his truck with that. Probably why it’s so strong.

It’s blind, and she’s fumbling, but she pulls away enough to take a hold of one of his hands and place it onto her cheek. She leans into it. This, here, is  _ real. _ That’s what matters.

-

It’s become routine now. These breaks where he just— he  _ feels _ — and then the push to continue, to go on, because the night isn’t over yet and there’s still time, and there’s still ghosts, and there’s still… He’s breathing against her skin, but it’s just stalling. Wasting precious time. Time that is already such a mess of rewinds and repeats and do-overs.  


Maybe it’s not the time for it. Maybe it’s too late, or too soon, maybe she’s already done whatever it is she’ll do, but he knows she’ll get there some time tonight. “We can’t change the past.” His voice is soft, scratchy, pushed past the shards of glass in his throat. “They want us to think we can, but— we can’t, Alex. The things that happened… we can’t change it.” They cross the cliffs, she sees Michael, sees Clarissa, remembers One Good Day. It’s been him before, too, he knows it has. Some perfect memory, something that made the temptation that much stronger once the choice was offered. He was spared this round but… he remembers.  


“What happened with Michael… it was… a tragedy. And that’s all people say about it, not that it was your fault, not that you could’ve done something— It was a tragedy. An accident. But it happened, and things have changed. Things— ...Things happen. ...So it goes.” Ugh. A load of crap, but there it is. True enough. His mom always was the expert on these things.  


-

“So it goes.” She repeats the words back to him with a barked out kind of chuckle. “That’s… I’ve been saying that all night, as a thing to replace bullshit. Is that our thing now? Is the stupid one-liner our thing?” There are really too many stupid one-liners to count, but she’s trying to make light of the situation at hand.

Of course Alex blames herself for Michael’s death. Of course she wishes she could fix it, that there was some other way to just change everything, but there isn’t. There never will be. She can only focus on the here and now, with the people that can still be saved. Ren, Nona, Jonas… even Clarissa. That leaves a sour kind of taste on her tongue, but they’ve saved her before. They’ll save her again. Despite her own reservations about it.

After just a little while more of waiting, she pulls herself onto her feet, still with one hand on Jonas’s sleeve and the other trying to hold on to his. “Okay. Okay, I can… I’ve psyched myself up enough for this. For the history project. I can— Michael stays dead. I can do that, for him. For you.” Because it needs to happen. Because there isn’t any other way around it. They have to cross the cliffs, and she needs to tell him to stay with Clarissa, and then it’s over.

-

There’s no reason not to - not at this point, not when he’s got the Words just sitting on the back of his tongue - so Jonas takes her hand and they start heading up the road. “So… if I remember correctly, you go all zombie-weird on me and start talking potato chip sandwiches.” He shoots her a weak smile. “Now the question is: you want to be piggybacked through that? Hitch a ride to the gate while you’re off visiting the past? Should I just hang here, break into one of the stores and try to find you a refreshing beverage upon your return to this world?”

-

“Pft— Okay, I don’t know what I say when I go in there, but… I wanna get done with this as fast as physically possible. So piggybacking might be what you need to do.” She squeezes his hand, leans enough to bump the side of her head against his jaw. “But don’t break your spine doing it, okay, Jonas? I know I look skinny, but I’m like a bag of rocks once you get going.”  


Alex passes the time from here to there by counting down the moments until she goes under and wakes back up again. Sometimes they all happen in rapid bursts, other times it takes longer, but they do happen. No matter what. So the only thing left to do is walk, and wait, and hope for the best. When they hit the cliffs, she tries her best to steel herself, and squeezes onto Jonas’s hand, before—

“Alex, why are you wearing that jacket? It’s like seventy five degrees, the sun’s out, y’know?” A short burst of muted laughter. “And I thought you were going swimming anyway. You bring a jacket, but you don’t bring a swimsuit?”

Her body crumples like a house of cards.

-

It’s a little weird, watching over her when she’s gone all catatonic and murmur-y. But he knows she’s okay, wherever she is. The ghosts are weird like that. Or maybe they just can’t touch these things. Mess with the present all they want, but the most they can do about the past is just chuck someone into it. It’s… vaguely comforting. Maybe.  


He checks his watch, waits for her to go still, and then cracks his knuckles. “Right. Here we go.”  


The piggybacking is a no-go. Too hard to get her to hold on to him, and he’s not keen on the idea of her slipping off and cracking her head yet again. So instead Jonas pulls her into his arms in a— his lips twitch wryly when he thinks it: in a bridal carry. Great. Normal normal thing to be doing.  


She’s not the lightest thing in the world, but whatever. She’s a person, he knew she wasn’t gonna be some kind of feathery slip of a thing. He’s not exactly out of shape. Still, it’s a slow and steady trudge along the top of the cliffs, past the command annex, reaching the lighthouse. Huh. They never tried going in the lighthouse, huh? It’s probably pretty cool in there, might be some way to mess with the light, put out an SOS.  


Except the ghosts wouldn’t let that happen, of course.  


Jonas sighs, glances at Alex’s dimly glowing eyes. Yep, still weird. “I swear, the things I do for you,” he shakes his head. “You and your stupid blue hair-” He huffs a laugh. “Wrapped around your fucking finger, seriously.” But of course, he’s talking about himself. It’s a hell of a lot easier to talk to her when he knows she can’t hear him. A little creepy, yes. But still.  


He halts a little before the bridge, ‘cause he knows Ren and Nona will see them, or even just hear them, if they get any closer, and this night already had a close call in terms of ‘appropriate sibling contact as witnessed by impartial observers.’ He watches her for another second, unable to parse exactly what she’s mumbling. When he says the words, it’s like he’s practicing in front of a mirror.  


“I love you, Alex.”  


Fuck. That’s… hhh. He sets her down on the ground gently, lays next to her, her constant murmuring bizarrely comforting as he stares up at the sky, trying the Words again. “I love you. …And I’m an absolute idiot for it.” And then he waits. Because she’s got another couple minutes of this, by his count, and then they’re off to another pop quiz.

-

“Look, this is what I get for trusting the weatherman! He said it’d be cloudy, and then it wasn’t cloudy.” That’s too on script. She doesn’t like it. But the rest of the flashback passes in blurred colors and words; responding to Michael like she usually would, talking with Clarissa on the beach, where it’s all too normal. All weird, and smiles, and nothing like the actual thing. Somewhere in the future, Jonas is carrying her to safety like some kind of white knight. The thought makes her laugh.

“So, what, you just slapped him in the face?” Michael’s laughing too. They’re on the beach after he got his phone, and Clarissa had the drinks, and it’s… “Jesus, Alex! I didn’t think you had the guts!”

“No, I know, it’s insane. Like ‘ra, ra, I’m gonna shoot you,’ levels of insane.” There’s a smile on her face. But she knows it has to end eventually. It takes longer than usual for the memory to fade. She tries her best not to think about it. When they reach the end of it, as they head up the cliffs again, when Clarissa has lagged more than a bit behind, Michael asks her.

“So… what do you think of her? Clarissa, I mean. I just want your honest opinion.” He sounds worried that she’s about to reject her, or say that she’s weird, and it used to be that Alex would do exactly that. But she doesn’t. Instead she just shakes her head with a sigh.

“I think she’s actually kind of cool. Like— not in a badass way, just… cool.”  


She can practically hear the grin in Michael’s voice. “Which means you think she can be a part of this. Great. Perfect. Good to know.”

“Oh my god, can’t you just get the picture and go already? The ferry’s leaving soon! I don’t wanna be stuck here for the entire night, okay?”

“Alright, jeez. Have some patience.”

He snaps the photo.

When Alex shoots upright in the fields again, she thinks she’s going to break for a moment— And then she spots Jonas. Jonas, who’s been through so much. Jonas, who just carried her from cliffs to house, and only because she asked him to. Jonas. Who she loves. She reaches up and scratches the back of his neck again, and it’s so gentle.

-

Jonas pulls himself upright as soon as Alex sits up, and his lips tug as she touches him because— well, just because. “Hey. You alright?” He shrugs away from her, but it’s with a smile, as he stands back up, brushing off his jeans, and offers her a hand. “No surprises? No second thoughts, I hope.”

-

“No, no, I… They got mashed together, for a second, but we’re still on track.” She takes his offered hand, pulling herself up and dusting off his— ... _Her_ jacket. Her jacket is back. Jonas is wearing all of his layers, and her red jacket is just the same hanging over her shoulders. Alex spins around, twists, tries to gauge what made her suddenly gain it back, before finally just shaking her head and chalking it up to those Temporal Anomalies.

That was almost too weird. She keeps her hand held with Jonas’s as they cross the bridge in Epiphany Fields, and start toward Ren and Nona. Of course her best friend sprints over, a big grin on his face. “Hey, you two made it! Now what did I tell you, Jonas, she’s Alex! I knew she’d be fine.”

“You must have gotten our message over the intercom about the keys, right?” Nona still sounds more than suspicious, but gestures toward the gates. “So you think you can help us with this?”

-

“Yeah. We— uh. Radio key. It was in Maggie Adler’s, um… effects.” Yup. Just a reminder that they’re about to break into a dead lady’s house. No biggie. He shoots Alex a look, then pulls the second WAL radio from his pocket. It’s not quite as streamlined as the one they used at the beginning of the night, but it’s not too bad. He tunes it quick.  


“Wait— where’s Clarissa? We can’t leave without her.”  


Right. That was… Jonas sighs. Right. “She, uh…” He looks to Alex, hoping she might have a better answer than ‘she lost her soul maybe kinda a little to the weird ghosts that are terrorizing us and she’s probably not coming back unless we really fuck them - the ghosts - up.’ But he’s not optimistic.

-

“We saw her? We think?”  


Nona’s eyes pull open wide. Ren tips his head to the left.  


“She was just— Okay, so— we can neither confirm nor deny the fact that one redheaded woman named Clarissa is now a part of the Sunken’s entire plan to royally fuck our brains up. So. Sorry about that, Nona.”

“What?  _ What? _ ” The poor girl sounds progressively panicked. “I— We can’t leave without her, that-”

“I’m not saying we’re leaving without her, Nona, we’re just… trying to get inside right now, okay?”

“She’s still out there somewhere! And- And you said she was possessed, and that you were looking for Ren— What even happened out there, Alex?” Another finger jabbed in her direction. “What did you  _ do? _ ”

-

“ _Alex_ didn’t do anything,” Jonas steps between the accusatory finger and Alex because - well, of course he does. “Clarissa’s just—”  _ Just the right amount of fucked up for them to get to her easy. _ “They picked her out, for whatever reason. She’s been going in and out of it and sometimes she’s fine, but mostly…” He tilts his head like he’s acknowledging an opponent. “Well. We’ll figure it out. She’ll be fine. We just have to—” Oh right. They were supposed to be looking for keys to the boat.  


“There’s… I think to get Clarissa out we have to do some other things before we leave. Maybe hold off on looking for the boat?”

Nona’s eyes are narrowed. Yeah, this timeline he’s really not on her good side. “What kind of things?”

“...I dunno,” he tries to sound casual, “but I’m betting Maggie knew something. I think we just need to get back into the cave.”

“Oh right, about that—” Ren interrupts, “The cave is a no-go. Went all rubbly and blocked itself up.”

Yaaaay. Ghosts.

-

Oh, son of a bitch, of course this happens. Of course it does. Alex doesn’t like the tension crackling between all of them so she just starts walking. Into the Adler Estate, out onto the docks, and— “Hey, Ren! Here’s your boat!”

“Sweet!” He’s sprinting in behind her just after the words come out of her mouth, and Nona trails in a sulking line behind him, making an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture at Alex before Alex starts beelining for the basement.  


“Jonas, c’mon. I think maybe, if we play our cards right, we can just get up to the station and start this right now. Just instantly. Without the weird  _ quiz me Clarissa _ game.” Alex grabs his hand, tugs him along gently, and Ren gives her a kind of look that says ‘Good job on getting closer to your sibling’ before going back to flirting with Nona. Ugh, those two. She’s had enough of them for one lifetime. And if she can avoid the whole random pictures on the wall thing… Alex is more than happy to leave faster. So she starts shoving at the basement door.

-

When the door to the basement opens, Jonas stands outside, looking back toward the other two. “Alex, they’re— they’re not like us, they don’t remember. We can’t just push them into this, it has to make sense.” Unless— “Wait, you’re not saying-” Each of them take a radio? They could’ve done that before they even came here, he’s really hoping that’s not what this is about. “Look, I— I’m not leaving you. We’re doing this together.”  


-

“Jonas—” She sighs, looks through tapes, tries to find what they’re looking for. The bunker. Catbird Station. “If we both take one, we can both hang on to reality, and that leaves less risk. I know you don’t want to leave me. I don’t want to leave you, either, I— God, that’s the last thing I want to do. But I just want to see if we can fast track it. If we can… I dunno, do something?”

-

He glances over his shoulder at her, lips tight. “You said you tried it before, Alex— you- you tried to do it faster, and you said it doesn’t work.”

-

The first bit is vacation slides. Maggie and Anna, having fun together. When she starts getting toward the bunker, and Catbird Station - the call and response - what Jonas warned her about first loop happens. The film starts melting, burning in the projector, and Alex has to back away as it’s left a popping and steaming mess. Fuck. Fucking… God damn it, shit fuck. She kicks it over. Her head feels like it’s being torn open.

Then she feels the blood.

-

Part of him wants to say  _ “See?” _ as soon as things start going wrong, but there’s not even time for it. “Alex-” There’s a whole lot of alarm in him when he spots the blood coming down over her collarbone, and he rushes to her side.  


-

_We are not so._   
_Easily outsmarted._   
_Sleepy Time Gal._   
_Jonas needs. A round with us._   
_First._   


Alex screams. It’s a high-pitched wail, as her eyes go red, but only for a moment. She’s gone in the next. Ren and Nona seem to have heard, as they come rushing inside just after the person Jonas has been with all night disappears into thin air.

“Holy shit, what’s going on?”

“Are you guys okay?”

“Wait— Where’s Alex?” Ren is the first one to notice. He’s followed quickly by Nona, and she glances around from the burnt-up projector to Jonas, and then back again. 

-

His eyes have gone wide because, really, he hadn’t expected that, and now he’s just reminded of Relay Point and being shifted into another dimension. “I don’t— she was—”

-

Clearly Nona thinks he did something, but then the screaming starts up again. This time, from inside the Adler house. It doesn’t quite sound like Alex, and it doesn’t quite sound like Clarissa— Some odd mixture of the two.

“ _Jonas! Jonas, please, it hurts! Help me! I- I can’t—_ ” It cuts to radio silence, and then again, “ _Please! Where are you? You said you wouldn’t leave! Jonas!_ ” 

One thing is clear. The ghosts want him inside before the real fun can begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back. Back again. Shady's back. Tell a friend. About this wonderful story we've created! Over halfway there now, folks. Just a little bit longer and we're gonna be getting into the epilogues and all that good shit. (Holy fuck I still can't believe we've finished it.) 200 hits and 5 bookmarks later, we're onto the next chapter and I couldn't be happier. I'll be in school soon, which might mean slower updates, but we've still got a bunch on the back burner for y'all! Stay tuned.
> 
> \- Hammie
> 
> (I'm not gonna be in school, and still intend to upload a chapter a week or so, maybe more frequently, so no worries xD)  
> Again, constant thanks to everyone engaging with this fic in whatever way. This chapter is a long one, particularly compared to the next, but the next is (as can be expected) kind of... intense? So this is more a setup for that. I'd love to hear some reactions to this bit (particularly THAT bit, cause I'm hooked on a Jonas who can't use words xD), so don't forget to leave a comment!  
> -OWT


	13. Chapter 13

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187409827900/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**THIRTEEN**

Jonas’s heart is in his throat, but he should have expected this, shouldn’t he? They would stoop so low, clawing at all those hidden feelings - they’ve done it before, they know what works. They know how weak he is. 

“Alex?” It’s Ren who speaks first, as confused as he is alarmed.

Jonas just shakes his head. “Not quite.” He looks at Ren, at Nona. “This is… um. I don’t think you’re going to like this. I’d recommend staying out here, but… to be honest I’m not sure they’ll let you.”

“Who’s _they?_ What the heck is going on here?!” Nona’s voice is rising in pitch, steadily becoming more frantic. He doesn’t have time for this. He knows it’s not Alex, but… but he still has to go to her.

“I’ll be back. Stay— stay safe, or… try to, anyway.” He practically sprints out of the basement, ignoring the noises of confusion behind him, taking the dock steps two at a time, the radio tuned to the key code before he’s even within range of the sensor. It chimes the signal and Jonas throws the door open hard enough that the doorknob slams a dent into the wall. 

-

Usually, Clarissa would be the one to meet them inside. She’d quiz Alex, she’d get all the questions right, and they’d start for the projector. But it isn’t the same now. Jonas can only hear Nona screech the redhead’s name for a fifth of a second before the door shutters itself closed behind him, and the world freezes. Alex’s body is sitting on the sofa as he walks in, and she’s grinning, eyes wild. It looks more like a snarl, when Jonas thinks about it as a threat.

“ _So happy you decided to join us, love. We’ve just been dying to play with you some more. Alex isn’t here right now, but we’ll strike you a deal._ ” Not-Alex stands herself up, stretches, and her shirt looks deliberately shorter than usual. “ _Get all the questions right, and nothing happens to your dear, dear caribbean haired lover. Get them wrong…_ ”

She waves a hand in front of her face. For a moment, it looks like Alex - the real Alex - writhing in pain without true noise, calling out for someone. But unfortunately for the situation, he can’t read lips, and she’s all alone. Floating in the middle of the ocean. She can still feel when her body moves, how it acts when she twists and turns, walks throughout the house, but it isn’t her.

“ _Well. I think you know what will happen to dear, dear Alexandra if you get them wrong. An eternity of pain, just for her. All caused... by you._ ”

-

His eyes narrow. This is… new. Usually it would be Clarissa running the show. Or, that sorta-Clarissa thing from earlier in the night. He’s not a fan of the change. It’s— It’s hard to see them puppeting Alex again. Too many memories and too much guilt from the last encounter with… that thing. And it’s even worse when that piece of Alex peeks through. Because— well, this isn’t a parallel timeline. He’s pretty sure that this Alex _is_ this Alex, and he… _really_ doesn’t want to fuck this up. 

Truthfully, Jonas _wants_ to start snarking back immediately, really give them a piece of his mind, but— Well. He grits his teeth. “ _Fine_ ,” he spits, fingers flexing into fists. “Ask your—” He hisses out a breath, censoring himself. “Just ask.”

-

“ _We knew you’d come to terms with it eventually, Jonas._ ” She grins that crooked Alex grin, and then presses a hand to her chest. “ _How sweet, oh… The poor thing misses you already. Nothing to bleed over, of course, but she’s so scared of being alone. Of being without you._ ”

Not-Alex fizzles from existence, and then reappears by the door. “ _The game is simple. We will speak of something we see in the house, and you will go and find it. As easy and good-natured as… your mother’s apple pie._ ” She knows what she’s doing. Toying with him, making it seem like there isn’t a way out. And really, of _course_ there isn’t. He just has to keep going.

The radio in the back flicks on: 

All training is supervised by skilled instructors.

“ _Yes. Thank you. Now. We spy with our little eye… Radiation._ ”

-

His head is shaking back and forth, but Jonas bites his tongue. He’s done it before. If they want to keep up this song and dance over and over, fine. He knows the answer. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, glaring, and lifts his chin. 

_Fine._ They want to play? He’ll play. 

They ask their question. Begin the countdown. Jonas strolls back and forth, lazily, like he doesn’t know what to pick. He takes slow, languorous steps, fingers tracing over the shelves, the arms of the couch, and coming to rest at the umbrella stand.

“ _...Five. Once I caught a fish alive. Four..._ ”

He takes his time selecting the right tool for the job. What is it- a five iron? Nine iron? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t play golf.

Well, aside from tonight. 

He pops the thing up out of the stand, grips it tight, and swings it straight through the TV screen, voice raised to whatever’s listening. “Looks about right, yeah?”

-

“ _Correct. The older models emitted X-Rays. But… a bad move, on your part._ ” Not-Alex doubles over, and she’s wheezing, coughing. When she looks back up at Jonas, it’s Alex. The _real_ Alex. “J- Jon...” Whatever he’d done, it’s making her spit blood from the back of her throat, choking on liquid before she blips out of existence again. 

“ _You should start thinking of radiation in a different sense._ ” The voice comes from right behind him, as she lays across the top of the TV, a gaping hole in her stomach that looks like broken glass. The snarling stays, like a feral cat, when not-Alex pulls herself into a sitting position, and passes a hand through the dripping red chasm. “ _We spy, with our little eye, a knot. Best be more careful this time Jonas. Otherwise you might just hurt her more than we will._ "

-

That’s not— it can’t work like that. They’re fucking with him, they have to be fucking with him. Anything that’s happened to her, to him, when they’re possessed— it doesn’t stay. He _knows_ it doesn’t stay. Still, the golf club drops from his hands. “You’re really fucked up, you know that?”

There’s really no point in talking back, except that it makes him feel slightly less awful. Barely. 

-

Jonas’s world has been tipped on its head. Literally. “ _Let’s make this a little harder now, since you don’t want to cooperate like a good boy._ ”

-

Jonas makes his way upstairs, stumbling for a second before righting himself, taking a deep breath, working against the vertigo. It helps that he knows this too well. He falls back against the wall all covered in maps and diagrams. “There. Your fucking knot. _Eternal recurrence_ — why do you even bother? It’s the same every time!” Just to make them suffer, that’s why. To pass their own suffering on to someone else, because it feels better that way. 

He lets out a weak laugh. Right. Like ripping a room to shreds really helped anything. Taking it out on them… God, is he like them? Is that what it is? Lashing out, making others suffer just to push some of the real hurt away? 

Well Jesus, at least he felt bad about it.

-

“ _Excellent, excellent, you’re doing so well!_ ” When Jonas slams up against the wall, not-Alex is on the steps, doing a handstand. Her eyes flash, and then it’s back to the normal copy, letting out a barely heard gasp before something violently shoves her down the steps. Crackling and popping all the way down, snaps and horrible, terrible squelching, and then it all stops.

-

It’s almost worse when everything’s flipped around - he would’ve expected it to be easier, less real, but when she falls—

“Alex!” He lurches off of the wall, running for the stairs, breath caught in his chest, but when he gets there... nothing. No body. No Alex. 

-

For too long, it’s silent. Far too silent. And then the house flips back to its normal state. Not-Alex drops from floor to ceiling with a noise that sounds like a car windshield imploding, standing upside down in the hallway. “ _Ouch. Looks like that one hurt a whole lot. Look at that,_ ” Helplessly, she lifts a shoulder, and it pops right out of place. “ _I can barely move! But no matter, it’s time for the bonus round. Stay quick! This one you’ll really want to find._ ”

Her head screws at an odd angle, around and around and around again, before it fixes on Jonas. “ _We spy with our little eye… a picture of a memory. Tick tock, Jonas. She’s been dying for you over and over again. Why not return the favor?_ ”

-

God. That cheery tone, that’s the worst part. Grinning despite the damage. He feels winded, weak, but Jonas keeps pushing. He’s reaching for the portrait, the frame— Anna. Their words punch him right in the gut. There are times he doubts them, but this isn’t one. 

The loops - they’re foggy. But tonight is easier. Tonight. In the tower. _“It was only the two loops where I— I died.”_ God. It’s true, isn’t it? Two that she knows, but infinite loops, eternal recurrence. _“Come die with us. Again… and again…”_ He’s not sure when he ended up on his knees, but he’s there now. It feels like a fight, like he’s tapping out as he reaches up and touches the portrait. 

-

“ _Yes, very nice! That’s Margaret Adler and her friend, Anna._ ” She peels herself off of her perch above Jonas, drops to the floor, and when she stands up again not-Alex is right as rain. Gently, she settles herself beside him, bumps her head against his chin. “ _Close. Just like you two are. I doubt I need to explain what’s happening to you all anymore, Jonas, but it won’t work. We’ll keep her here forever. Alex is a part of us now, just as Anna is. No matter how much she and Henry may want to help her… she is ours._ ”

The world unfreezes. 

Alex is asleep on his shoulder, coiled up in a ball with his jacket wrapped half over his shoulder and half over hers. No glowing red eyes, no more injuries, just plain old Alex. Dozing with one hand still buried in the hair underneath his beanie. The tape players are back in their usual sections, two upstairs and one down. They’ll croon the same music as before. But she doesn’t wake up just yet. It seems like they’ve taken so much more out of her than just a bit of energy this time.

-

His hand loops around Alex’s neck, holding her to him while the other runs down his face. Like maybe it’ll wake him up. But no. It’s still going. He’s still going. They’re still going. Jonas tilts his head back against the wall, lets it loll against Alex. Another heavy sigh. He could fill a fucking hot air balloon with the amount of sighing he’s done tonight. 

His hand works at the muscles in Alex’s neck - stiff even in sleep - and he adjusts their position. “Alex. Hey.” He’s not trying to wake her - well not fully, his voice just above a whisper - just shift her off a bit. “I’m gonna be right back. Have to— have to reset. ...Again.”

It happens again - that impulse, that natural reaction - as he pulls her hand away, brushing his lips over her knuckles before settling her back against the wall. The guilt happens, as always, though it’s subtler this time around. This isn’t even real. This is limbo. Who cares what happens in limbo, if it’ll all go back as soon as he winds the damn tapes. 

He winds the first set, right there. The same pattern, the same sort of squeak to the winding. And across, to the one on the other side. He shoots a glance over to Alex before heading downstairs for the last. 

He sort of forgot that it would come. Weird, since he feels like everything else has been (mostly) as established. But the world goes off a bit, there’s a feeling like something’s watching him, and he looks to the mirror. 

God. Is that what he looks like? Broken and angry and just— wow. 

“ ** _You can’t let her die._** ”

Jonas’s mouth pulls a bit. “Um… A little late for that, actually.”

For the first time, his reflection actually seems to hear him, but doesn’t respond. Just that angry crease between his brows. 

“Move on.” It’s weird to be giving advice to his future self. Or— past self? Which side of the mirror came first? “...She’d want you to.”

When the world slips back to limbo, Jonas feels… relieved. Like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “Right…” He stares down the tape recorder before him. “Well. Here goes nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky number 13 feels about right for this chapter. This was another fun one to write, cause horror is just delightful. What'd you think? 
> 
> And in unrelated news, if Hammie and I were, oh I don't know, working on a couple other Jonalex projects, would anyone be interested in reading? I'm always tempted to share what I'm working on, but also have a bad habit of not finishing things. This particular project we didn't decide to post until we already knew exactly where we were heading and had most if not all of the story completed. These others aren't on quite such a rigid timeline, since they aren't a recounting of the game events through another lens (one is a Jonas-only radio timeline where he saved his mom and she moves to Camena as Alex's new English teacher; one is a bartender AU taking place when they're in their mid-twenties, meeting for the first time in (a very inaccurate) Portland). Since they are more meandering, and still in the process of being written, I'm not sure if/when they'll be completed as stories. Would people still be interested in reading them? Lemme know in a comment. 
> 
> Oh, and a final note: there may be some community organization around this ship happening, so lemme know if you wanna be in on it by shooting me a message through my [tumblr](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/) or [discord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoTurns/profile).
> 
> Thanks for reading! Share it with a friend!  
> -OWT


	14. Chapter 14

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187540764780/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**FOURTEEN**

When the tape recorders whirl to life, Alex wakes herself up. She’s woozy, and her bones feel like they’ve been broken every which way. What makes her panic is the realization that she doesn’t remember any of what happened. She’d gone into the basement, and then the projector had blown up, and…

Jonas hit her with a golf club. He’d shoved her down the stairs, he’d— 

No. No, not-Jonas had done that. It hadn’t been real. It hadn’t been him. They were trying to break apart the super twins again, or whatever Clarissa had called them before. She pulls herself up onto her feet, muscles creaking, and nearly falls over again when she tries for the stairs. Ren and Nona are on the couch and the armchair respectively, and Alex is grappled onto the railing, wheezing softly.

“I— Ugh, god, oh shit… Jonas?” Her vision keeps winking in and out. The strain feels like it’s killing her.

-

He’s already on his way to head back up the stairs when Alex comes down, and Jonas immediately gets his arm around her, supporting. “Hey, take it easy. They really did a number on you.” He’s glancing over her with no small amount of concern, but as before, there doesn’t seem to be any permanent damage. Aside from the psychological bit, but that’s just a little more fuel on the fire, really. He helps her over to the living room. “It goes away. Takes a few minutes, but…” Well, he’d had his neck snapped, hadn’t he? And he was… well enough, now.

-

“So we can go…” Nona wakes with a start on the words, coughing up half a lung before slowly sinking into the couch again. “On the— Oh, god, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Me first.”

Well. Good to know they’re both still alive.

-

“So…” Nona looks hesitant, like she’s trying to put things together and it’s not going particularly well. “Clarissa is… in the caves? And you said- to fix it, we have to get into the caves?”

“There’s a— there was a thing on the slides in the basement.” He’s not entirely sure if they’re at all readable now. “Something about call and response.”

“Oh!” Nona brightens. “This is something I actually remember from that stupid radio tour thing ‘cause it, like, sounded... so weird. It unlocks the bomb shelter. Something to do with signals and verifications or… something.”

-

Alex is shaking harder than she means to, but when Jonas offers any kind of support, she takes it. For a while, she waits until stating her piece, trying to breathe deeply or whatever. God this sucks. Everything sucks. At least Jonas is here.

“It’s up at Catbird Station. The WAL radios act like keys to get in, and then the stations use the call and response with the signs given to them. To open the bunker, we have to send a signal from Catbird Station to the receiving station, and then get inside. Really simple, from a physical standpoint. But with ghosts breathing down our necks…” A little bit harder.

Nona looks like she has whiplash, “Wait a minute. How did you figure all of that out? Sure, you and Jonas were in the basement, but that doesn’t—” A pause. Ren is staring at her, everyone is staring at her, and finally her best friend says what most of them are probably thinking.

“Did - and Alex, be honest with me here now, because I would really hate to ruin our friendship over this - did you tune into whatever in the cave to get rid of Clarissa?”

“Wait a minute, _she_ was the one that started all of this?”

“God no. What the fuck. Guys, my body feels like it’s on fire, give me a fucking break.”

“No! No, I won’t! You doomed Clarissa! You doomed all of us, because you’re just some— some outcast freak! You’re a murderer!”

“Shut **_up!_ **” Alex slams herself onto her feet, and then her brain goes all fuzzy. She stumbles, a scowl still on her face, trying not to fall over.

-

It’s weird, how helpful his little chat with himself was. Jonas catches Alex as soon as she wavers, helps her back down, and turns to Nona. “Look, I know you’re upset about Clarissa. You’re her best friend, it makes sense that you’d be really having a hard time with this. But I can’t emphasize enough: this isn’t Alex’s fault.” 

He’s not sure how he manages to keep so calm, but he does. “You— I mean, I don’t know if…” He shakes his head. “Look, Nona. We’ve repeated this night - or, at the very least, parts of this night - over and over again. The ghosts— Every time they ask us - they ask Alex - to make a deal.” He chooses his words in a careful lie. “And you know what she says? She says no. She says she’d rather be trapped here with them then let them take us.”

Nona looks less than convinced. 

“You don’t have to believe me. Just… just get to the receiving point and confirm the signal. We’ll take Catbird.” Maybe it’s his words, or maybe just the soothing tone of them that seems to at least lower the repressive tension in the room. 

Jonas pulls the WAL radio from his pocket. “Here. Use it to get in. We’ll go do the thing.”

-

Slowly, Nona takes the WAL radio from him, and holds onto Ren’s hand. He looks like he’s about to pop. “Okay. We’ll… Okay. Just. ...Don’t die, or whatever.” It’s clear she’s saying it more to Jonas than to Alex, but they leave well enough alone, exiting the Adler estate and running off to go and find the receiver. 

For a few minutes after they leave, Alex stays where she is, doing her best not to hurl whatever’s left in her stomach. It’ll probably just be dry heaving anyways, and dry heaving is the absolute hands down worst. But eventually she cracks an eye open, holds her hand out toward Jonas, and just lets herself sink further into that little tidbit of self-loathing she’s been hanging onto for the past… however long it’s been since the whole loop thing started. Her palm is up, and from the way it’s angled, the heel of her hand is tilted more toward him than it probably should be. He can see the little lines on her skin again.

“Ninety seven thousand two hundred and eighteen. I just remembered how many times I’ve been doing this.” The words leave her in a breathless huff. Sure, she can only recall the details to maybe 24 or 25 of those, but it still hurts. All of those aches from different timelines coming back all at the same time. That cannot be good for her health. “Out of those ninety seven thousand two hundred and eighteen times, I have died one hundred and thirty three.”

-

Jonas’s heart stops. It’s— he can’t even… 365 days, so 36,500— so… _two hundred something years?!_ That can’t be right. That’s just... That… can’t be right. He just stares. Stares and… and falls. Falls to his knees before her, takes her hand in his and meets her eyes. “Alex. This ends tonight.” He doesn’t use the words, but this is a promise. A vow. An oath. 

His gaze falls to her hand, cradled in his, to the tiny hashes lining her skin, enough to spill out past the hem of her sleeve. He hangs his head. 97,218 failed attempts. 97,218 timelines where he is useless. 

Fingers move so gently, tracing the lines, brushing against her, and he hesitates for just a second before pushing the fabric up, up, past her elbow, and there’s lines and lines and lines and his heart is breaking. He presses his forehead to her knee, his throat tight, chest aching, breath shallow. And then he pulls her hand to him and he’s kissing her palm, her wrist, every mark he sees because he just wants to make it _better,_ he wants it to _heal,_ he wants them to leave and leave every reminder of this horrible place behind them. 

-

She mutters something like his name, leaning enough to run her free hand through his hair, scratching softly at his scalp. Alex doesn’t want him to feel like he’s useless, which might have been why she didn’t tell him originally, but it’s just… She’s tired. He’s tired. They’re both too tired. But they need to get up to Catbird Station— eventually. Eventually, they have to get up there. She can wait a little while longer. The world can wait a little while longer, so that Jonas can just stay here with her. 

“It’s…” She can’t say it’s okay, and she doesn’t want to. But she does her best to carefully pull herself downward, keeping her forearm in his grasp when she moves, curling her arm around his shoulders and continuing to play with his hair. “Please don’t cry. I- I wouldn’t be able to handle that, if you cried over me. Really, Jonas. What’s one more loop in the indefinite spiral?” 

Alex tries to smile. It comes out wrong. She shunts their heads together, and just stays there, her forehead to his temple. None of it is okay. But they have each other. They have each other, and neither of them are dead yet, and that’s all that matters. It’s all that matters now. The ghosts have tried, and failed, and tried again to tear them apart. It hasn’t worked yet. It won’t work now.

It’s the first time she’s sung to him - _really_ sung to him - this loop. Alex’s voice cracks. She doesn’t care.

-

“I’m-” He huffs out a laugh, but it’s weak, because his eyes are definitely stinging, but- “I’m not crying.” Again he kisses her arm, her wrist, her palm, the tips of her fingers. “I mean-” and his throat is definitely aching like he might, but, “I would— I would, Alex, I definitely would. But I’m not.” He does, however, take a second to breathe. 

The Words are running through his head again, over and over and over. A mantra. An affirmation. _I love you I love you I love you_. They’re lodged in his throat, and it feels so stupid, that this is what gets him, when it feels so obvious, like she must see it, she must know because— well, because. It’s so painfully true. 

A little shock pierces through his heart at her soft crooning - the second her voice catches - and it’s like a switch, like something flipped all on its own, and his head turns and their foreheads are touching, their breath feeding into one another, and they’re so close— so so close. 

“Alex…” 

-

It’s stupid, when she thinks about it. Her ignorance to the entire thing. The ghosts had turned her face toward it and said _look,_ but she hadn’t been paying attention— At least, not until now. Not until everything is being torn to pieces and Alex doesn’t have a clue as to what’s going to happen next. For once in her miserable night, she doesn’t know what’s coming. She knows what she wants to do, what she wants to say, but it might not be the right choice.

Well. One more mistake in an infinite loop of them, right? If things don’t go right, she can just reset them. Which is a horrible fucking outlook, but still. It is an option. When Jonas turns to look at her, Alex’s voice ends up caught in her throat, ending halfway through a verse and cutting herself off. And the way he says her name— God. Everything about him. It’s too good to be true. It has to be the ghosts fucking with her again. It has to be. But it isn’t. It really, really isn’t.

So she does the one thing her mind has been screaming at her to do. Sure, she’s always been more than a bit impulsive, but it doesn’t feel like being impulsive now. It feels slow and fast all at the same time, when she leans forward and presses her lips against his and just lingers there for she doesn’t even know how long. And it’s the best thing to happen to her all night.

-

This is the best timeline. It has to be, because it’s the one he wants to remember. 

He’d— well, something had happened with… with that other Alex. But not like this. That had been anger, masochism, shame and guilt and everything making his entire body lead and rage. This is… not that. She’s kissing him and— _she’s_ kissing him, her, because it’s what feels right and what feels good and— God, this is… If this could end the loop. If only. If everything in him that’s bubbling up, making him lighter than air, if that could fix it all… 

Some kind of fairy tale ending. 

He really does take after his dad. Hopeless romantic, when it all comes down to it. When he falls, he falls hard. He falls straight into ravines and ditches and loops upon loops, but hey; he’s still falling, and if he forgets about the rest of it falling is almost flying, right? Right. And they’re flying the hell off this island. 

Jonas isn’t super jazzed about ending the kiss, but it has to be done. His thumb traces her cheek, fingers brush down her neck, and he just leans against her for a moment. A long moment. “We-” His voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat. “We need to, uh… to go do the… the thing.”

-

She laughs, and it’s such a soft, simple thing, but it breaks the air of oncoming doom like a slap to the face. Because it’s been so long since Alex has smiled. Has really, truly smiled around someone. The fact that it’s Jonas - the fact that it’s Jonas, and he _loves_ her and he doesn’t even have to say it anymore - that just makes it better. So much better than it would have been. 

“Catbird Station.” Alex can’t really speak correctly now. She’s all lightheaded and her stomach is twisted, but in a good way, and it’s just… “Yeah.” It’s so good.

Gently, she pulls her head away from his grasp, wobbles onto her feet, and then offers Jonas a hand so that they can both get going. Call and response, confront the ghosts, get the hell off of the night on horror island. For the last time. For the first time. Whatever happens next, they’re doing it together. They were never alone. And they never will be, never again. Dynamic duo extraordinaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. FINALLY.
> 
> God, I love these two so much.  
> Always looking for comments and reactions, so... keysmashes welcome xD
> 
> [If you want to get involved in some kind of Jonalex community, hit me up on [tumblr](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/) or [discord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoTurns/profile).  
> And, if you didn't do it last time, and are interested, feel free to check out [the bartender au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20562917) (Holy Spirits, cause wordplay).]
> 
> -OWT


	15. Chapter 15

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187693483910/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**FIFTEEN**

It’s easy going, getting from here to there. Doesn’t hurt that their hands are brushing, tangling together. Extra doesn’t hurt that he fully vetoes jumping the gorge, because they’ve gotten this far and he really doesn’t want to lose now.

_Now the station’s at the top of the hill._

Jonas knows the line, he’s said it over and over, but he knows she does, too. He shoots her a look. “We try to go up there and it’s gonna send us back. You ready for that?” He was the last one to wind the tapes. This’ll be her turn, if they’re sticking to that strategy. And the ghosts always did like her more.

-

Alex shakes out her limbs like she’s trying to crack stone off of them, breath fanning out in front of her as she hops on the balls of her feet. It’s cold enough now that she’s glad she put back on her jacket - the one the ghosts gave back to her not that long ago - but it takes her a minute to respond. She’s about to watch Ren die again. And again.

“Sure. Let’s do this thing.” She starts walking toward the wall, hooks her fingers into the rocks, and glances back toward Jonas so that he can spot her in case she scrambles and falls. “Let’s watch my friend who maybe kind of hates me right now die over and over again, that’ll be cool. For sure.”

It doesn’t take long. With a _click_ and a _whirr_ , she and Jonas are back at the beginning again, still climbing until they reach far enough to spot the little graveyard. Nona sits there with her head in her hands, crying as she suddenly snaps her eyes up toward them at the sound of crunching trail mulch. This is going to be a trip. “Nona… Hon, where’s Ren?”

She only stares at them for a moment, blankly, until she finally manages words. “Ren— He had an accident, he-” With the words, Ren superscripts himself onto the rocks in front of them. Splayed out and run through, as blood pours into the river water. Alex flinches. It’s never been this real before. “He died, and I couldn’t…”

A _whirr_ and a _click._

-

“He… he drowned.” It’s not the prone body splayed over the rocks, like it has been before. It’s a fetid thing, long past drowned, a chain caught around his ankle.

_Whirr-click.  
_

“He… took a fall.” The body is hardly down ten feet before—

_Whirr-click._

“He just… gave up.” It’s almost like a continuation of the scene before, the next few feet down. Except… nauseatingly purposeful. The jerk at the end of the rope is the worst bit. That and how it seems to go on for far too long. And then—

_Whirr-click._

“He tried to tell you, Alex. He tried.” The whirring is constant, the images coming one after another, each broken body mangled and torn and sometimes too bloody, sometimes eerily lacking blood. At times he seems long past dead, a perch for carrion crows, and too often his death looks far from accidental. “If only you had listened… If only. We. Could _go back_.”

Lightning crashes and suddenly rain is falling, the lights are out, they’re in the power station and _Jonas is not himself._

He’s grinning. “I mean, does it really matter what happened? Either way, done is done. Whether it was an accident or not, somebody died. And someone is at fault.”

-

For most of it, she’d tried to hide behind Jonas. Tried to avoid the sounds, the smells, anything that might have set her off. But there’s a whole lot of things that set her off. Especially when the ghosts rattle around ominous thunder and lighting while taking him away from Alex. She doesn’t bother retaliating physically, even if she jumps with a start at the sudden change in his voice. Soon enough Alex is leaning herself against the door with an annoyed - and, truth be told, disgusted - look on her face.

“Seriously, you assholes? Are you just the one trick pony of the goddamned century? Give Jonas back, I’m not making the stupid deal for Clarissa. Go away!” Her voice snaps more than she expects it to, and holy shit, is she actually standing up to them? Maybe that boost of confidence was really just what she needed.

So she waits there, arms across her chest, one foot on the ground and the other kicked up onto the door behind her. She looks like some kind of delinquent kid, the kind that people would cross the street to avoid, but it’s a good stance for her when she’s facing down a hive-mind entity that has just taken over the person she loves most. “Not cool, dude.”

-

“We don’t need Clarissa, Alexandra.” He comes closer, the way he did at the relay point, that same look about him. “We-” Closer and closer, too close for comfort. “ _I_ want you. You know I do.” They sink into him like a second skin at this point. They’ve done it before, they do it again, picking up the controls and puppeting every inch of him masterfully. “It’s just…” He sighs, frustratedly. “It’s complicated.” His fingers skim along the bookshelf beside him.

He hesitates. Lightning crashes, the lamp turns on, and he pulls out a book that wasn’t there before. It’s the same rough and tumble copy from the comm tower. He flips through it, absently. “ _‘Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.’_ ” His laugh is that same sarcastic huff that Jonas has. “A hell of a philosophy, isn’t it?”

-

“You aren’t real. I know you aren’t.” Alex has planted herself, and she isn’t moving. She can’t deny they’re right - because they are right. It’s too complicated, far too complicated, and that’s something unavoidable. When not-Jonas tugs the book out, when it laughs, her face pulls into a grimace. “God, can you stop with the whole act already? I know you’re in his body. I don’t know what you’re trying to get me to do. So can you just cut to the fucking chase, so we’re not here longer than we need to be?”

Alex is angry. Alex is absolutely, positively, _furious._ At everything. At the ghosts, at Maggie, at Henry, at Anna - and Nona and Ren and Clarissa - because they are all idiots. None of them understand what’s happening. Sure, they feel the aftershocks of it, they know the pain, but they’re just pawns in a game of chess. She and Jonas are the king and the queen, and if one of them is gone… checkmate. Game over, for everyone. Which means she has to keep going, no matter whatever deals they offer her.

-

He turns his eyes on her - those spotlight eyes - that stubborn furrow in his brow. “We’re trying to help,” his irritation is obvious. “You want to be together so much? Fine. But things won’t be easy.” Not-Jonas turns away, the reddish glow fades for a moment. The voice is his again.

“I love you, Alex. I love you. …And I’m an absolute idiot for it.”

-

The words deafen her. He’d said that - Jonas had said that - at some point in the night. Probably when she was flashed back with Michael, so that she couldn’t hear. When he was still afraid that this was wrong. That she didn’t want him in the same way. It hurts, more than Alex wants to admit, and she bristles at the things that are keeping her here. Whatever anger she had before falls away into some odd pit near the back of her mind, forming instead to desperation. Despair.

No. No, she can’t let herself be manipulated. Not now. Not when she’s come so far, and lost so much, and… Just no.

-

“Things are— they’re never fully _easy_ , but they’re easier without the… complications. And… Well, you didn’t want to replace Michael after all, right? You _can_ have it all. Everything _can_ be beautiful.” They turn on her again, with that fierce look Jonas so often has— so often has talking with _them_ , how they know it so well by now. They pick the strings to pluck.

“Anna loved once. A love that wasn’t accepted. She knows how this goes.” He glances back over the power station, all evidence of Jonas’s tirade earlier missing in this reality. “But it doesn’t have to.”

He takes a careful step forward, reaches for her hand. “There are two ways to change this. You won’t like one of them.” Careful hands turn her arm over, pushing up the sleeve, almost a perfect recreation of their moment in the Adler house. His voice is quiet. “We always give you the option to stay, Alex. To have this night. To keep it, just for you.” His thumb presses the spot where Jonas’s lips were less than an hour ago.

“Or…” The exhale is heavy and long. “Or you _change_ the way things are. Make it acceptable. Remove the complications. It’s— well, a little odd at first, but in the end… You figure it out. Everything fits, eventually, the pieces fall into place and everyone’s back where they belong. Michael is home, Jonas is by your side. Everything is beautiful. Nothing hurts.”

-

Too many times. This has happened too many times, in too many different ways, and they know her. The Sunken know her better than anyone else does now. With ninety seven thousand two hundred and eighteen little tick marks on her arm. What they are offering, it means the loop can continue. She’ll come back to Edwards island. Alex has tried it before, to get Michael to stay, but it never works. It never truly brings him back. Just enough time for a few happy memories, and then she forgets most of it all over again. She can’t take what they’re offering. She knows she can’t.

But she lets them stay. She lets them creep into her mind, for just a few moments, when she shakes away anxiety and stress, trying to keep herself calm. Her mind blank, nothing but a single idea in the back of her head. Jonas and her, together. Not even in the sense that it was no longer a taboo. Just them. And she lets that seep into their collective consciousness, as she opens her eyes to them again, after it feels like an eternity of having them closed. Alex had pitied them, long ago. She pities them still. Maybe that’s what has her coming back. Maybe it’s why she just can’t leave. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

“You know I can’t… You know I can’t just do that. I know what you want, and I-” Alex cuts herself off. And she’s gentle when she reaches out, runs a hand along not-Jonas’s cheek, smiling. It’s a little sad, a little broken, but it’s there. “You know what I want, too. If I could give you back the time you lost, without you having to use our bodies, I would. I really would. But this has to end. It has to. We can just— have one more little moment. Just one more.”

-

Pity is not what they were looking for. But it’s what they’ll accept, for now. He holds her hands, squeezes them. “Just… think about it. The offer still stands.” And there’s a _whirr_ and a _click,_ and Alex is alone.

-

She lets out a shuddering breath, and then turns from the room, pushing open the door to the unsheltered world. Nona is exactly where she expects her to be: curled up in a fetal position on the ground, mumbling randomly. Alex takes her time getting to the other girl. First one tape recorder, then the next, and then she stops next to Nona.

“Listen… I’m sorry, about Ren. I know I should’ve done something. I know I should’ve tried harder. But I just—” Alex doesn’t expect her voice to break like it does. She clears her throat, continuing, “I’m sorry.”

The raven-haired girl nods, slowly, “I know you tried, Alex. I know you did. I… I was actually starting to like him, y’know?” There’s a quiet laugh, as she sits herself up a bit more. “Like, really like him.”

She can only offer a kind of strangled noise in response. “Yeah. Yeah, he… Ren really liked you, too. A whole lot. When he first came to the island, he was all like, ‘Play it cool Alex! Don’t ruin this bit for me!’ that jazz.” She drops down to Nona’s level, laughing right along with her, and that’s when she snorts.

“Oh my god. I didn’t know you did that, Alex. You’ve been holding out on me haven’t you?”

“Not at all, Nona. Not at all.” There’s a pause, where they both look at each other, and they understand.

“I hope it works out. With you and Jonas.”

Alex hugs her. Nona hugs back. It’s an odd tangle from level to level, but it’s real, and they know they’ve made up. They know there isn’t a point in fighting anymore. It’s just what happened. The night that lasts forever is about to be over. Once they break apart, Alex tugs herself fully onto her feet again, and walks over to the last tape recorder.

_Click! Whirr… Whirr… Whirr..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Another chapter down. Only 6 left (well, 4 and 2 epilogues). Whaddya think? 
> 
> Again, if you're curious about a Jonalex community, hit me up on [tumblr](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/) or [discord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoTurns/profile).  
> And, if you're interested, there's the first 3 chapters of [the bartender au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20562917) up as well.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Shoot us a comment!
> 
> -OWT


	16. Chapter 16

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187811917350/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**SIXTEEN**

Time clicks back into place, Jonas is back, already on the path to Catbird Station, and he’s licking at the inside of his mouth which - as usual - tastes like he just face-planted onto a Christmas tree. “Eugh.” He looks quizzically down at himself, slowing for a moment. “Weird…” For the first time tonight, the possession came with no echoes of lethal pain. Shit, is he— is this a bad sign? Is he getting used to it or something? Becoming numb? “Is it just me or… did they _actually_ leave me alive for once?” It’s hard to believe, after all they’ve been through.

“Hello?” Ren’s voice is coming in over the speakers, without the typical we-don’t-know-how-to-work-the-fuckin-thing feedback, so at least there’s that.

“Anyone there?” Nona pauses, then sighs, sounding somewhere between anxious and impatient. “Are you guys at the station?”

“Does she… think we can answer?” Jonas muses, interrupted by a grunt or two as he climbs his way up to the next path. 

-

Alex doesn’t respond to him. Usually, she’d be more than up for some cheap quips and banter after an unearthly possession, but not now. Not after what she was just offered. The road not taken. What was that stupid poem about again? Some traveler trying to make his way through a yellow wood? Close enough. She can’t really remember what road he ended up taking anyway. Slowly, they ascend toward Catbird Station, working their way up on the trail until reaching the waterfall. Just the sound of it already makes her want to stay as far away from the thing as possible.

She starts jumping across without any warning to Jonas, taking it one step at a time while trying her best not to completely freak out. Only one person is needed to flip the switch. The other could stay behind. Though, halfway to the other side, she freezes. Michael’s in her head again. 

_“Oh c’mon, Alex, you can’t be serious. Since when are you afraid of a little drippy drop of water?”_ Her breathing picks up. Nona is still talking over the intercom. _“Just keep going! You can jump the gap in the woods, but not this? You can do it without him!”_

“Jonas…” It’s the first word she’s said since he went under.

-

He hates it when she does this. Like at the comm tower, climbing with a gash bleeding out the back of her skull, and now here. He can’t call after her for fear of distracting her, but he also _thoroughly disagrees_ with her actions. Even worse, she’s way too quiet. Jonas’s lips purse as he silences himself and just jumps the river after her. He very nearly runs into her midway, and his quick change in momentum skids his foot across the rock for one panicked half second. But he recovers. Since coming here - since starting this - he’s learned he can recover from a lot. 

He’s already reaching for her arm before she speaks, mostly just to have a grip on her in case she slips, but he’s extra glad for the contact when he hears the tremor in her voice. A thumb strokes over her skin in a small gesture of comfort. “Yeah.” It’s not so much a question as a verification of his own presence. 

-

It’s his touch that grounds her. It makes her flinch, for just a minute, before she realizes who it is. “I can hear him.” Alex’s voice doesn’t come above a murmur, and she goes for Jonas’s hand, trying her best not to have what feels like a heart attack. Michael usually didn’t… appear like this. If he appeared at all. He wasn’t this deliberately antagonistic. She really hopes it’s the ghosts fucking with her, but it probably isn’t. It’s probably inside her own head. 

What she doesn’t realize is how she’s shaking, holding too tight onto him, digging her grip in and trying not to slip again. She can’t keep going. She _has_ to keep going. She’s— she’s halfway there, she can’t just stop now. That isn’t an option. Being trapped over the water is nearly as bad as being in it, submerged, floating without anything to hold onto and— Nope. No. No no no. Alex tucks her face into his chest. 

“I can hear _him._ Again. From the lake.”

-

Jonas sighs. He should’ve said something, shouldn’t have let her try to cross. ‘Let’ her. Like she needs his permission to do anything. (Still, physical restraint may have been called for in this case.) A hand rubs her back, he kisses the top of her head. “Let’s get you back on dry land.” He redirects her stance back to the bank they came from. “Want me to go first, or wait here for you to do it?”

-

Alex shakes her head a bit, and trains her eyes toward a point of focus. The land not currently surrounded by a whole bunch of water. She can do that. It’s just a few steps, a jump, she could do that, easy. Other than the loop where she’d fallen here. No— No. Do this. Jump the rocks, get on land, let Jonas handle Catbird, all in a day’s work for the possessed Edwards Island. Normal. Completely, utterly normal.

“First.” She gestures to herself. Gently, Alex pulls away from him, to start heading back. It takes more time than she wants it to, but she makes it, and upon reaching the other riverbank promptly sits down and curls herself up. “Jonas, get to the station! Otherwise Nona’s static might kill me…”

-

Yep. Right. Call and response time. 

Jonas backs up a couple steps to get the momentum and makes the jump to the other bank easily. The WAL radio is out, the door unlocked in seconds, and he heads straight to the phone. 

“Yup.”

“Oh hello! This is Edwards Island Emergency, how may I help you?”

“Not the time, Ren, really not the time. I’m sending it out.” It’s a simple thing to do, really, even if the confirmation message from the radio is creepily similar to the ghosts’ own machinations. 

Signal Verified. Shelter TF1 Open.

“Nice.”

“I guess-”

“All set, yeah, we’re on our way back. Just…” He lets out a breath. This is finally gonna be over. Just a little bit left. “...Meet you at the bunker.” He doesn’t bother with any further farewells, putting the receiver down maybe a little more forcefully than necessary. 

A stolid thumbs up is his main message to Alex before a not-quite-shouted. “All clear.” And then he’s on his way back across the rocks. A running start, a leap, a— a shift in his footing, a slide, and—

_Whirr-click._

Jonas blinks for a second, glances around. He’s back on her side of the river. “Did… did something just…”

-

Alex had watched in slow motion when everything happened. She’d been ready to hop across the river, before that odd clicking noise. The same one as the tape recorders. Jonas is back on land. Something had grabbed him - what looked like the red-eyed entity from the wall near the campgrounds - and then dropped him off over here. She stares, wide-eyed at the spot Jonas should have fallen to his doom.

“...They saved you.” She doesn’t sound sure of it, even if she’s saying it out loud. “Those things— the ghosts, the Sunken, whatever you call them— saved you.” 

Alex knows why. It’s a manipulation tactic. An attempt to get her to stay. She shouldn’t listen. They are always the bad guys, the foil to her protagonist, but it just isn’t working out like it normally would. Usually they’d be the one causing the destruction. Now they’re averting it. She’s still curled up in her little ball, looking toward the river, over the falls, past even that to the end of the island. The island she’s been trapped on for God knows how long. She hasn’t bothered to hash out the mathematical details of that just yet. But the idea they’ve put into her head hasn’t left yet.

God, how can they do that? Just make something stick like flypaper. She hates the fact that they can do that. It’s annoying. Really, really annoying. But she doesn’t mention more on the topic.

-

Jonas glances up, into the night sky, as though he might catch a glimpse of glowing red eyes or some shadowy figure, but it’s all empty. “...Hm.” He’s not exactly happy about the ghosts shifting him through a time loop, or a— a rewind, or whatever that was. But… well. He supposes it’s better than being dead. 

His eyes glance to Alex for a second, curious, maybe even a little suspicious (more on the part of the ghosts than Alex herself), but he sandwiches his lips between his teeth and hums his discontent. _Sure wish you’d tell me what the hell happened back there, Alex._ But, of course, it’s not _actually_ any of his business. He didn’t tell her about letting his mom go. She doesn’t have to tell him anything. 

Still. It’d be real nice to know. 

-

She tugs herself onto her feet, starts walking for the edge of the little cliff they have to climb every time, and then pauses. It’s a battle between her better nature and her _good_ nature, to tell Jonas about the ultimatum they’ve given her. Her mouth closes, opens, closes again. Nothing is simple. Ugh, nothing is ever, ever simple… But then again, if it were simple, she would still be on script. Which means she should just make it even more complicated. The ghosts are relying on dissent, right? Disloyalty? Well. She can fuck around with that.

Alex, as she’s climbing down, starts speaking. “They didn’t hurt you when they possessed you this time. They just… talked to me. The same way you would.” The words sound off, coming out of her, but it’s true. “Quoted some books, spoke in your voice— that type of weird shit. But it wasn’t just that, Jonas. I’d be talking to you more about it if it hadn’t tried to sell me on something.”

_Everything can be beautiful._

-

It’s… weird. And incredibly disconcerting, to hear that the ghosts hadn’t— not that they hadn’t twisted his likeness, exactly, but that they’d managed something vaguely convincing. Except for— “Really?” He raises an eyebrow. “I mean, I’m not exactly a read-” Oh. “...Right. _That_ book.” He’s on the ground following after her, rubbing a hand across his face. 

“Look, I don’t know if I— Maybe I explained or mentioned it or something… Basically, that book pisses me the hell off.” It’s a simplification, but true enough. “My-” He takes a second to swallow, because yeah okay maybe he feels that telltale tightening in his throat that always comes when he talks about his mother. “My mom was always way into literature and stuff— an English teacher, so… yeah. I guess they kinda have to be. Meanwhile I’m watching TV and playing video games and— learning fucking _Wonderwall_ — and only barely completing the assigned reading for class. I dunno… I think… She never mentioned it - at least not directly - but I think she was kinda… disappointed. She’d buy me books for Christmas and stuff, but… Yeah. I dunno. I was a shitty kid, I guess.” 

He’s lagging behind Alex, because it’s a little easier talking to the back of her head. “Anyway, in class we got assigned that book - the— the one that we found in the tower, that one. And she was so excited for it, like she thought this was gonna be the thing that suddenly turned me into a bookworm. I… I don’t know why. It’s really fucking confusing and depressing, so…” He rubs the back of his neck, aware that he’s probably a little pinker than usual. 

“But yeah. She was— in the hospital, and I was reading that- that stupid thing, with— it’s really weird, seriously, there’s all this stuff about aliens and time travel and really awful shit about the war and— it’s… it was just weird. I don’t get why she liked it so much. But I had it, that day, and she was really happy to see me reading it I guess. But-” He trips over his feet for a second, but soldiers on. 

“There’s this thing, right? The thing— the ‘so it goes’ thing. It’s like— It’s like an excuse and an acknowledgement all at once. Like any time someone died - anything died - it would be in the book and it just lost any meaning to me. It felt like a cheap cop-out, like this idiot protagonist was just accepting everything as fate.” Jonas takes a breath, ‘cause it still really irritates him. “So… I don’t know… She was really bad, and she’d decided to— to stop treatment, and she… I guess it was just her giving up, right? ‘ _So it goes._ ’ Like it was an inside joke. Like I’d suddenly become some master literary critic who would totally get this reference and not think it just sounded like— like giving up.” 

There’s a moment or two of silence, apart from their feet on the path. “Anyway. Yeah. ...I hate that book.”

-

“...God, wow, I shouldn’t even continue with what I’m about to say, huh?” The laughter dies in her throat faster than she can muster it up. Alex drops back a bit to walk beside him, to take his hand and rub little circles into the back of it as they walk. She feels so, so guilty, and she hasn’t even done anything yet. She hasn’t decided. The only way this could possibly get any more macabre is if she was carrying around Michael’s skull. Oh— No, that… that wasn’t a good joke. At all. “Yeah. _Slaughterhouse-Five._ They quoted this— this specific part, and I’ve never read it so I wouldn’t know what it means, but they made that bit clear just afterward. _‘Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt,’_ or something like that. I don’t even remember anymore. It gets all fuzzy after a while. I can remember it all immediately after, but it’s like a bad dream after that. Anyways.”

She knocks her head against his chin once, twice, and she doesn’t really know if it’s for her comfort or for Jonas. “They offered me something, like I said. The chance to be with you without the— the complications, as they put it. A binary choice. In the end, it would all end up in the same place, but one would be way more final than the other. Stay here, on the island. Die this loop and come back. Remain with them for as long as I shall live, and in death too, I guess. The other one… I think you already know what I’m gonna say, but I’m saying it anyways.”

Bring Michael back. Have Jonas as a friend, not a stepbrother. Change the past. Continue the loop, even after you think you’ve gotten out. Alex doesn’t like that idea any more than the first one. “Changing the past. Keeping Michael in town, having you move in as a friend rather than as a brother, and nothing hurts. Everything is beautiful. I mean, it’d be a kind of shitty utopia, considering on August 8th I’d jump right back here and have to deal with the night on horror island again. Point is, they want me to choose. They want me here, with them, to take out their anger on forever. I don’t want to do that. But I do want you. And it’s— I can’t do it, I can’t bring him back, because that’d just be selfish. So, so fucking selfish. They’re really good at making it seem like I can, though.” Alex takes a deep breath. That was a lot of talking.

“So I need you to keep me from doing it. I don’t care how, just don’t let me take that deal. No matter what they make me do, no matter how they make it seem. Don’t let me bring him-” She squeezes her eyes shut, against the sting in them, swallowing the ball in her throat. “Don’t let me bring him home.”

-

Jonas’s brow is furrowed, frowning as he contemplates their offer, Alex’s request. “Look, Alex, I—” His throat closes up all on its own. Really? Still? After all of this? “...You know how I feel about you.” That’ll have to do. “And- And you know I would… I’d do… _a lot_. For you.” He’s staring - almost glaring - at the ground. 

“And- I mean, Christ, that sounds— Look, I get that this… _this_ is gonna difficult. But… but I’d rather you be miserable and free than happy and trapped forever.” His neck is hot, his words a little fast. “And maybe that makes me a bad person, maybe- maybe I don’t deserve you, but— Look, we’ve come so far tonight, and-”

He’s not exactly babbling, but he’s certainly not the most articulate person in the world as he continues; “Not to be a dick or anything, but I’d rather die miserable and alone - I’d rather _you_ die miserable and alone - _off this island,_ than have a ninety seven thousand and whatever-the-fuck loop of this night.” It’s shitty, but it’s true. They can deal with the harsh reality of probably never being together. That’s... he’s fine with that. He _can be_ fine with that, if it means Alex doesn’t live the same loop for… well, forever. 

“I think… I mean, I think we’ve already established this but… I think trying to change the past may be the— I don’t think we can ever _keep going_ in a…” He’s not quite sure what to call it. “...An alternate timeline. If we get back to the— the _real world_ or whatever, it has to be the one we left. No matter how shitty it turns out to be.” 

-

“Yeah. I know. I figured that one out the last…” Alex counts on her fingers, ticking off numbers in her head, and then sighs. “Three hundred times I tried to bring him back? We get to August 8th, I don’t remember any of it, we’re back here. On Edwards Island. And it just keeps going. Because I don’t even know how to stop it anymore. The thing is, Jonas, if I were in the right state of mind? If I were still that stalwart nonbeliever in absolutely _anything_ supernatural? I wouldn’t be doing any of this. Hell, I wouldn’t even be thinking of it. But it’s— I’ve seen— too much, now, to not.”

Gently, she slips an arm around his waist. It’ll have to do for contact, while they’re walking, but it’s better than nothing. Nona and Ren stopped prattling on about everything once the signal was sent, and Alex has nothing better to do. Other than avoiding certain doom, but they’re already in the process of that, so this is just an added bonus. “And yeah, sure, that makes me an impulsive dickwad. I already knew I was an impulsive dickwad, old news, whatever. But they know how to test me now. What twists my gullet, or whatever other word people want to describe it with. It’s you, and it’s Michael. You, because— Well, I love you, there isn’t a whole lot to say to that— Michael… Michael’s a longer story. A way longer story, which I’ll get into when I have enough kettle cooked potato chips dipped in ranch for a lifetime.”

Huh. Maybe that’s why she likes weird food combinations. Might just be something else Alex earned from her dad, though. “Damn. We didn’t eat at all throughout this huh. I didn’t even have dinner. Oh god wait that means, technically, I haven’t eaten in like… forever. Holy shit. I’m getting off topic because I really don’t want to talk about this and I’m sorry I can’t do better for you,” she offers up a self-conscious chuckling noise. “Sorry I’m what you’re stuck with… again.”

-

His heart still jumps a little every time she says it. _I love you._ It makes his fingertips tingle, which is weird but not bad. Jonas is smiling, even if it’s a little weak. It’s been a long night. 

He pulls a face. “Just straight ranch? Really, Alex? Can’t even go through the effort whipping up a nice dip?” She rambles on, and he listens patiently. Tightening a hold around her shoulders, he leans in to press another kiss to her hair. “Are you kidding? Number one best person to be stuck with, for anything.” His grin is small but growing, crooked for a second as he teases; “Maybe not a cooking competition, but anything else.” 

He glances at his watch, though he knows time doesn’t make nearly as much of a difference as it should here. 5:00. Hm. He frowns for a second at it, because there’s something nagging at him, something he feels like he should remember. 

Then, he crumples.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to edit 18-21, but I keep wanting to post and post and post, and so... yeah. Let's hear it for chapter 16! Who knows what happens next? Gimme your best guesses in the comments. :3  
> -OWT
> 
> (See last chapter's notes for links to the bartender au and contact info if you're interested in the Jonalex community)


	17. Chapter 17

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187911183565/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**SEVENTEEN**

_At first, he’s confused. This is new, for the island, he thinks. His surroundings are familiar, though: the courtyard at his old school, where some of the students would hang out for lunch.  
_

_“She’s just - she’s riding my ass_ all the time _-”  
_

_Jonas blinks, trying to place the memory. Luke continues._

_“Like seriously, just_ let up, _y’know? Let me_ live. _”_

_Sam, Luke’s girlfriend, is nodding in agreement, stealing chips from Jonas’s forgotten lunch. A bag of chips and an orange that’s probably gonna get tossed, but he lets his dad think he’s getting at least a few of his daily vitamins when there’s no real lunch food in the house. No time for it, really. Dad spends practically every hour of the day at work or driving back and forth to the hospital. It runs their life now, this illness.  
_

_“Ugh, seriously though?” Sam turns in her seat, flicking a pack of cigarettes open and closed at her side, since they’re not quite far enough from the school to risk outright smoking. “Parents are_ the worst. _Mine won’t shut up about getting my college essay finished.”_

_There’s something familiar about this day, but he’s not sure what. Their comments still annoy him, somewhere in the back of his mind. Maybe because he’d complained over something so similar just months ago, before everything got bad.  
_

_Jonas fidgets, taking a tip from Sam’s handbook and playing with his lighter while she finishes his lunch. The way he used to - still does, sometimes - flicking his fingers through the flame. It’s fine. He’ll raid someone’s fridge later. Or go sweet talk a lunch lady or something. He knows how to eat if he needs it. For now he just broods, trying to tune out his friends as they go on and on complaining about things he’s kind of missing lately. He knows that, rationally, he’s not the same guy he was back then, in the midst of everything that was happening - apathetic, angry, antisocial; all the shitty a-words. An occasional asshole. But he also knows how he felt, and feels it still, kind of.  
_

_It’s the laugh that does it. The most_ **obnoxious** _laugh. An idiotic guffaw that can only belong to a kid who still goes by ‘Timmy’ at 17. Jonas grits his teeth, stiffening as the realization floods through him like fucking Icy Hot.  
_

_If they want him to change the past, this would be a good thing to change. If he’d kept his cool, if he hadn’t— He would’ve never gone to juvie, never had that weight of unresolved disappointment from his mom, could’ve — he swallows hard — could’ve been there, in the end. Not just had to get a fucking escort to his own mom’s funeral. He wouldn’t be the ‘troubled teen’ that people couldn’t look at without wondering if he was gonna snap and do something worse. The one the local moms gossiped about.  
_

_It’s like they know just what buttons to push, which regrets he most wants to fix.  
_

_Dread lands like molten lead in his gut, burning straight up through his chest. It’s pretty fucking awful, what they’re doing. Where the only way to keep the world the way it is, is to do it all exactly the same. He can’t stop. He can’t back down. He can’t hold back.  
_

_Time seems to still for a second. From a day he couldn’t place, Jonas now knows exactly what goes down. ...And how it’s all going to happen again. He tries to push back the guilt, the shame, and just embrace all the anger he has toward these fucking ghosts, because he’s going to have to be a pretty fucking awful person for a few minutes. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, and a queasy feeling in his stomach. But it has to happen._

_“Yo, skid, think fast!”_

_Jonas turns, just in time to get a baseball to the face. It hits his cheek, turning that whole half of his face ruddy. There are chills rocketing up his spine, because he knows what comes next._

_He’s out of his seat too fast, fuming. “The_ **fuck** _did you just say?”  
_

_“Chill dude, it was- it was a joke!” Finster’s hands are up placatingly, but the friend he was with is a lot smarter, backing away as Jonas stalks towards them with too much purpose. “I figured you’d catch-”_

_Jonas is on him in an instant - the kid is top-heavy, goes down with a thud, a muffled crack on the pavement as Jonas lays into him. Poor Timmy Finster, never thought his dick move would go this far. He tries to swing back, but Jonas is kneeling on his arms, a frenzy of strikes.  
_

_Jonas never trained to fight, but he’s a scrappy kid, got in a few scrapes every couple years, usually resolved with first blood or whoever just gave up first. He’s never been this brutal before. And hasn’t since, either.  
_

_Someone, he’s not sure who, pulls him off of Finster, and Jonas turns out of their hold, shoving them back. “Get the_ **fuck** _off me!” His blood is pounding in his ears, and his swing at the Good Samaritan misses (thank God, that juvie sentence would’ve been a lot worse with a second assault charge), but he’s gotten enough space to turn back to his intended target._

_Someone has helped Finster to his feet, barely, but when Jonas turns his attention - his absolute fury - on him, the kid’s eyes go wide (well, the one that isn’t watering and bloodshot from the first few punches). He doesn’t have a choice but to fight back, so he does, and Jonas’s arm goes all tight and tingly as the punch lands. He ignores it.  
_

_At some point (he thinks it’s right after he punches Finster in the mouth, it was probably the teeth that did it) Jonas’s knuckles have split and are smeared with blood. In that same part of his mind, he’s trying to focus on that, on every hit he_ takes _instead of_ makes, _but it’s really hard when he’s replaying, blow for blow, the worst mistake of his life. Was he crying, then? Maybe. Either way, he’s crying now, hot and angry tears, an automatic response to a hit to the face, his teeth bared, practically frothing at the mouth.  
_

_The kid’s flailing defense lands an elbow into Jonas’s teeth, then his throat, and Jonas stumbles back, winded.  
_

_Someone’s grabbing his arms, pulling them back, dragging him away, and Jonas is a hissing, feral thing.  
_

_“Fucking psycho!” Finster’s friend, the one who’d helped him up before, is steadying the kid, who looks about to pass out.  
_

_Jonas is practically growling, tastes the blood in his mouth and spits it at the ground. “Eat shit.”_

_“That’s enough-” The person restraining him is an older woman, or she sounds like it, as she asks someone behind them. “What’s his name?”_

_There’s a half-second pause, just the sound of the clink of metal on his jacket and the friction of fabric on fabric as he fights the woman’s - the officer’s - hold, before Sam speaks, and she sounds stunned. “Jonas.”_

_“That’s enough, Jonas.”  
_

-

Alex barely has enough time to catch him before he hits the ground. He’s heavier than she is, more muscle in the places she doesn’t have them - hooray for being of a mediocre height and only ever walking home from school - but it seems more sudden than it is. As gently as she can, she places Jonas onto a more grassy portion of the path. They’re not even halfway to the bunker. She won’t be able to carry him, even if she wanted to. Fuck. Okay.

There’s only a little bit of time to gauge what’s going on in his head, but when one of his hands jitters, she thinks she has an idea. It’s that not-quite-lashing-out-not-quite-standing-still that she knows too well now. Obviously he’s fighting something, but Alex doesn’t know what. So there are two options: try and get him across to the bunker, or wait it out. Having him wake up with Nona and Ren around… wouldn’t be the best. Especially not with how her friend already sees him. Which means sitting tight and hoping for the best.

Alex keeps her distance, but only enough to be a few short steps away from him, as she watches the odd neon glow in his eyes. It doesn’t make her feel any better about the situation. Oddly, she thinks Jonas’s mumbling might be louder than hers, but she isn’t going to mention anything about that. Maybe she’s just trying to avoid the whole ‘he’s dealing with something horrible’ situation. Sure, the ghosts like tossing her into better times, but that doesn’t seem like what they’d do to Jonas— when they keep calling him _Soldier._

Soldier. Which equates to fighter. Which also equates to a killer, which she’s pretty sure he never wanted to be. Alex ties her hair up into a ponytail, then takes it down, then ties it up again. Just enough to keep her busy. Fidgets with nails, her cuts, the fabric of Jonas’s hoodie when she can’t deal with keeping that much distance anymore. All she can do is play the long game. Which is something she absolutely sucks at.

Her voice is quieter than she wants it to be. That’s okay. “Please come back. Just— I dunno if you’ll come back okay, or safe, or whatever we’re calling this now. Coming back is enough. Which is stupid, because you’re probably hurt and something terrible is happening like your mom dying or some stupid juvie memory, but you’re just— You’re not a soldier. You’re not a killer. Okay? And I know you can’t hear any of this, Jonas, but it’s true. You’re you. That’s all.”

-

It takes… a while. For Jonas to wake up. Weird, since the whole thing, when it all happened, couldn’t have been more than ten minutes of conflict before it just became him getting into a police cruiser and dealing with some really shitty consequences (that were totally deserved, in all honesty). But when he stirs awake, a lot quieter and less painfully than any other ghosts-have-been-fucking-with-us wake-ups tonight, his watch says 5:30.

His watch, coincidentally, is on an arm currently acting as Alex’s pillow.

“Um. ...Sorry about that.” His voice is quiet, his face pale, and he finds himself smiling briefly at her hair spilling over his arm, and there’s a second that a thought pops into Jonas’s head— and it’s so darkly ironic that he huffs out a laugh: that maybe, some other time, this night could’ve been considered weirdly romantic. At least, all their little moments alone so far.

Not worth it, though, in the end.

The ghosts kinda… fucked it.

“I wasn’t too bad, right?” His voice is almost wry, a tension hidden just under the surface. “Didn’t start singing show tunes or anything, I hope.”

-

Alex shakes her head just a little bit, and she looks more worried than she thinks she does, as far as trying to hide it goes. “No. No, you were… You were fine. Maybe a little louder than I’m used to hearing you, but it was okay.” It’s harder to talk than she expects. Probably best not to bring anything up, even if it seems like Jonas is trying to play it off. Which means it might be worse than she thought it was. Jesus Christ. Okay. Calm down and stop freaking out over what is probably nothing.

But there’s still that nagging feeling at the back of her mind. Like she should be asking more about it, investigating, whatever else is going on. Though for now she tries her best to smile, “I couldn’t really move you, even if I tried, so. I just kind of sat tight for a good few minutes while you mumbled something about needing a light and someone named Sam. That, and food, which I guess is something we share if you said I was talking about chip sandwiches.”

“Don’t think you heard anything I said while you were in there, though, which— Y’know, understandable. Getting a blast from the past is weird as hell. Trying to follow it to a T is even weirder.” She picks herself up enough to lean over and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, tucking her hair behind her ears so that it doesn’t fall into his face.

-

Jonas glances at his knuckles and they’re - well, actually, they’re still kinda marked up from earlier, but - mostly clear. Definitely not bloody. Still, he’s maybe a bit too eager for distraction - a bit too eager in general - using his fortuitously placed arm to roll her on top of him because shit, kissing is a lot better than fighting (or thinking about fighting) right now. It’s a lot easier to ignore pain and guilt and some solidly shitty memories in favor of being with Alex. And being maybe… maybe a little more enthusiastic than before.

It takes a second for him to realize— well shit, this is not a healthy coping mechanism, and he pulls away with a frown. “Sorry. I mean— not sorry, I’m not sorry we’re— that’s not— not that part,” he quickly assures, arms wrapped around her. “I’m kinda… dealing with shit. And that’s just, y’know, not fair to you. To be… how I deal with shit.” He pulls a face, ‘cause wow that’s… that’s basically what he’s doing and it’s a dick move.

-

“Yeah. It’s what I figured. Didn’t wanna cross a line asking, so…” She shrugs a bit at him, offering up a smile and a huffing kind of laugh. They really should be getting to the bunker. Ren and Nona have to be waiting for them. But there aren’t any intercoms in Towhee, and so it doesn’t seem as pressing as it usually does. Wait. That might not be a good thought. No, no that isn’t a good thought— If the ghosts are trying to make it more inviting, it’s working, but she can’t just stop midway and waste more time. Fuck. Okay. She can deal with this. Alex can deal with this.

After just a minute more of running her hands over his cheeks, almost petting him, she sighs and tugs herself up. “C’mon. Ren’s gonna kick my ass if we’re late to our own welcome home party. And— Just… If Nona asks about us, and I mean ‘us’ as a thing, then don’t worry about it. There was a whole situation in the time loop, before you came back. Alright?” An offered hand. A smiling face.

Gentle has never been her brand of things. Alex was the kind of kid to eat a bug on a dare, to play basketball with the boys rather than house with her peers, and it all came from her own mind. Her mom had called her a troublemaker, but her dad had called her a visionary. Ren had, too. So when they pass through the woods again, onto Epiphany Fields, she pauses only enough to look over the different stacked rocks and wild grasses before coming up with a fail safe. If she does take the offer.

Last time she’d been there, even if it might not have been loaded, there was some kind of rifle in the bunker. Alex has only ever shot a gun once, but she knows how they work. She knows how to use them.

One shot, one kill. Easy.

-

It’s a testament to how far gone he is with her - too busy just kind of vaguely smiling ‘cause she sort of does that to him - that it isn’t until he’s on his feet that the words hit. “Wait— What about Nona?” It’s a bit of mumbled confusion, quickly forgotten because she’s moving so he’s moving, because that’s how this night goes; following Alex and trying not to die.

She hesitates for a second and Jonas is suddenly half a step ahead of her, and he looks to their joined hands. “Oh. No, yeah, you’re right.” He lets go, stuffs his hands into his pockets, begins the slow trudge toward the bunker. Towards… the end. Hopefully.

They’re midway down the hill when his wandering eyes catch the carefully stacked rocks by the cliff’s edge. “You know what’s weird? I think— I mean, I guess I don’t always go for them, but as far as I remember— it’s always your name on that one. The whole… _‘part of that glorious history,’_ or whatever it says. More of the creepy ghost business, I guess.” He’s frowning, the idea floating for a second in his head without trying to analyze it. “Just… weird.”

-

Alex bumps their shoulders together gently, blowing white mist into the air. The mornings are always colder here. “There are a few times where I get zipped further back than usual. Usually they’re slip ups, and they don’t last that long, but it’s odd. Like I’m in someone else’s shoes. Maybe an ancestor or something? But it’s… nice, I guess. She’s sweet.” From what she can remember, it’s in the ghosts time, too. When World War II was still going on, even if it was on the end swing of things. By the time they’ve reached the end of the hill, Nona and Ren are both waiting outside, laughing softly as they talk to one another.

“Hey, lovebirds! Come to let us pass by?” She’s grinning. Ren grins right back.

“Yeah yeah, Alex. We’ll be out in a jiffy. But first…” He drags out his camera, and Nona makes a kind of face, but she’s too happy for it to really stick. Alex starts dragging Jonas along, and then all of them line up, one teenage face after another. Once it’s snapped, and Ren shakes it out, they’re off to the races.

First she hugs her best friend.

“Be careful in there, okay? Don’t let those creepy-crawlies get you down.”

Then Nona.

“What he said. I just hope it gets everything to stop.”

And finally, she stops at Jonas. Takes his hand. “So. This is the part where I tell you it’s all going to be fine, then you think it’s your line, and we argue going down the ladder. But, uh. I don’t really think that’s needed, huh?” Alex has to go up onto the tips of her toes to wrap her arms around his neck, and for a moment she just breathes him in, eyes closed.

When she does drag herself away, she doesn’t have eyes for anything but the open bunker door, and the descent into madness that awaits. Down the rabbit hole, Alice. Down into Wonderland.

-

Jonas is far too aware of Ren and Nona as Alex hugs him. He’s too stiff, too formal, even with his ears going pink, because— well. They haven’t been there all night. And what Alex said about the ghosts… _Complications._ Jonas clenches his jaw, hugs back maybe a little too hard, stares at the ground over her shoulder. It shouldn’t be as hard as it is; they’re going to be walking in together, after all. But it’s just… on his mind. How things will change when all of this is over.

But isn’t that the point? That things _will_ change, finally?

And… and if that means everything from tonight has to be forgotten, for the sake of a tolerable home life…

The flush is working all the way down his neck now because he’s thinking - perhaps - maybe things could go the opposite direction— but he thinks it only for a moment before silencing those thoughts. Well. Silenced-ish. A couple glimpses are a little too vivid to forget, and he swallows hard. Nope, nope, none of that. Things to do. Lives to save. Hopefully.

Alex goes first— she always does, even in his timeline; she’s the one barreling headfirst into things, leading the charge even if he’s the supposedly even-keeled one doing the tuning. His gaze follows her, and he must look absolutely _smitten_ because that’s how he feels, and on the verge of heartbreak because things won’t last. Not off the island, not out of the loop. Things will happen, they’ll settle into a peaceful but distant coexistence and… that will be that.

Worth it, in the end, though.

God, this shouldn’t be what’s making him hesitate. Guilt gnaws away at him, recalling everything else he’s had to do to ensure (or, at least, as best he can) the ending of the loop. Not a closing, really, but an opening. And somehow it’s harder now to think of losing Alex than it was to relive, re-choose his worst regrets. It’s ‘cause it’s the future, maybe. A future that might actually exist.

Either way. It ends tonight. And that will have to be okay, because it can’t be anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost my birthday! Well, technically, it's the 25th, but I wanted to celebrate so here's the next chapter. I love this chapter. I love love love writing Jonas's flashbacks, and extra love some solid Feral Jonas. So... what'd you think? Was this at all what you were expecting? Let me know, shoot us a comment! As always, thanks to everyone who comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc. - or just reads! Happy to see this fic still getting read, as it's a huge feat for both of us. ❤
> 
> -OWT


	18. Chapter 18

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/188082771330/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

**EIGHTEEN**

For once, Jonas isn’t spotting her. That probably isn’t a good thing. Well, at least it gets her a bit off of his chest, which might be better for his blood pressure. A little on-script joking was always required in times like these. It takes what feels like a full half hour before they get down the ladder, and once she plops down onto concrete, Alex locates the nearest thing for her backup plan. An old pump-action rifle and some really, really ancient ammo nearby. Which she might not even need. She hopes she doesn’t need it. She really, really hopes she doesn’t need it.

“Well. You know what happens next. We can’t tune in to your mom’s lullaby.” Otherwise Jonas will disappear, and he won’t remember anything. Which isn’t exactly the end goal. They have to broadcast out and off of the island, both of them, and then exit to the cave so that the ghosts can be confronted. One of them will end up stuck in the void, and then they have to convince the Sunken to let go.

Okay. Start with a less complicated plan, maybe? And not just dive headfirst into things?

‘ _But Alex,_ ’ she thinks, lips pursing, ‘ _being an impulsive ass is what you’re best at!_ ’ Yeah, inner Alex, she knows that already. Move on and let something else happen.

-

“No, I… I know. It’s okay.” And it is, weirdly. The first— well… however many times, because there are so many he doesn’t remember and he’s betting most of them were the same, the lullaby felt like an anchor that needed to hit ground. He’d wanted to hear it, to feel that closeness and comfort and connection to what he’d lost. It just… isn’t the same anymore. His fingers catch the ring around his neck. “It’s just a song, in the end. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it means a lot, but… just another lullaby, y’know? Other recordings exist. I’ll survive.” Hopefully, they’ll all survive. And in order to do that, he can’t exactly ditch her now.

-

After a little while of checking around for possible tears in reality, she finally settles herself into a chair near the microphone, a heavy sigh on her lips.

Kicking her legs up onto a nearby bed, she takes hold of the receiver, and presses down on the broadcast node. “Ren, Nona, Clarissa, Jonas, Alex. Or Alexandra. You only have one task for tonight, okay? And don’t listen to Carly. Listen to me. Stay off of Edwards Island. Keep away from the caves. Be more careful than you think it’s worth. I know you’re impulsive as hell, and I know we’re all idiot teens, but seriously. Don’t come here. _Never_ come here again, if at all possible. …Alex out.”

After waiting for it to sink in, for the sound levels to go back to normal, she hands it over to Jonas. “Your turn, love.”

-

She sounds so sure of herself. So sure and confident, and like she’s seen it all, and knows it all, and knows _it will be okay._ Jonas just has to stare, to watch her confident posture, the way she leans back, like this purgatory is the easiest place to be— a cakewalk. Things feel heavy, and she looks like she’s dropped the weight of the world from her shoulders and is finally free. _Going to be_ free.

He takes the microphone without thinking about it - without taking his eyes off of her - and without really caring because as soon as it’s in his hand he drops it because there’s somewhere else his mouth really wants to be, and it just called him love, so…

The mic has hardly bounced onto the bed before her face is in his hands and he’s kissing her like it’s the last time he’ll see her because— who knows, really, who knows.

If this goes badly, he doesn’t know how much he’ll remember. He really hopes it’s all of it, because this… this was the best timeline. This was the timeline that he got her, that they changed the future instead of the past.

Well, here’s hoping.

-

Woah. Okay. Note to self, do that more often. Alex does her best not to fall over from the odd angle, having to dip her back a bit, but that’s fine. It’s good to know they still have little moments of this - that they still _have_ this - even if it won’t be entirely out in the open. Her arms wrap around Jonas’s neck and squeeze, just enough to get a better grip on him. And maybe get him to slow down a bit, too, but she doesn’t really care.

By the time she bothers to break the lip-lock, she’s laughing. And for once, it’s so full of life that it sounds like she might burst. “Jonas- Oh, my god, please tell me you didn’t break it—” Alex tests the microphone once, twice, and after determining he has not, in fact, just dropped the key to their escape, holds it back out to him. “C’mon, dude. You literally have one job, then I’m free as a bird. We both are.”

There’s a pause as she flips herself around in her chair, arms on its back and legs splayed out as she straddles it. “And y’know, technically…” There’s a hint of mischief in her. “Your dad and my mom haven’t left for their honeymoon yet. It’s, what, Memorial Day? We’ll have the house to ourselves.” At least she’s gaining that back. If she can crack wise and flip off ghosts, then there’s nothing she can’t do.

Unless Michael makes her change her mind about the here and now. But Alex has done this before, she knows how this goes, and she can’t afford to try and bring him back. She needs to keep going. He’d want her to keep going, that much she’s sure of. Her all-star older brother would’ve wanted her to just live. Live in his place, doing what he never got to do. He kept a bucket list, somewhere. Maybe she should find it. Complete the damn thing already. Making up with Clarissa… that’s a different story. One she can deal with later.

-

Jonas must look like an idiot, because he can’t stop staring at her and he’s got some kind of crooked smile on his face, some combination of fear and love and hope. All he really _wants_ to do is keep kissing her, but that’s not gonna happen because this is the End. He finally drags his eyes off of her, looks to the microphone, picks it up, and tries to think of what to say.

“…Don’t come to the island. Seriously, I know Ren is excited about it but— it’s not only super lame, but also kind of hell on earth. If you come here you will never leave. Ever. Listen to Alex, she’s done this before.” He finds something caught in his throat. “Too many times.” And he’s looking at her again, and is transfixed, and his lips are moving without his brain giving permission. “If you come here, she hurts, and— and you don’t want that. Because— …because you love her. …I love her.” Finally. Finally the Words are out of him, and it stings for a second, because why did it take him so long? But it’s done.

Nope, nope it’s not done, ‘cause now that he’s said it once, now that he’s looking at her, saying it, he can’t not say it again. He barely even realizes the mic is still in his hand. “I love you, Alex. I love you— way too much. I love you thousands of loops in the making. And-” His laugh is weak and darkly humorous, “-if you fuck this up, I will still probably forgive you, honestly. If I remember.” 

-

To say she’s stunned would be an understatement. Sure, she’s said it to him, and she knows it’s true, but hearing it out loud is a whole different story. Alex is beaming at him, frozen in one spot until she hears the broadcast cut off when they run out of air time. It isn’t exactly romantic - they’re stuck in a doomsday bunker on what’s hopefully the last night of this terrible, horrible story - but it’s better than it was before. The ghosts kept describing it as a roll of the dice, one she got wrong every time, but this feels like she’s finally hit something other than snake eyes. Jonas is her good luck charm.

“I love you too.” Alex’s voice starts off soft, as she slowly stands up from her spot, the backup plan all but forgotten. Unneeded. “I love you too, Jonas. So much.”

She does her best not to knock him over when she kisses him again. It probably doesn’t work, but he’s got better balance than she ever has. So she holds herself there, with one hand twined in his while the other wraps around the back of his neck. She can’t tell how long it is - seconds, minutes, hours - before the tape player comes back on again. It makes Alex jump every time, to hear his mother humming, playing ukulele. Especially given the current situation. And if the recording is playing, then— Her time is almost up. Again.

-

It’s way too easy to devote his thoughts to her, to kissing her, instead of what they’re about to do. His mother’s voice jars Jonas out of their stupor. Even when Alex jolts in surprise in his arms, he doesn’t let go. It hurts, yes, to hear that. But it’s a familiar pain by now, settling into a gentle ache. His thumb strokes over her knuckles. “She’d like you, you know.” He rests his forehead against hers for a moment, eyes closed and a half smile on his lips. “She’d think you were such a good influence on me— which is hilarious, by the way, because you’re like the craziest person I know, I swear.” When he kisses her again, it’s small and sweet and not quite a goodbye. “But we can’t change the past.”

The hand that had been holding her to him drops away, reaches into his pocket and pulls out the radio that started it all. In comparison to the WAL radios from Maggie Adler’s effects, it looks cheap and childlike. “You take the door, I take whatever’s behind it?”

-

“Well, that’s how it usually goes, isn’t it?” Alex tugs the WAL radio from Jonas’s jacket, fiddling around with the dials while it’s still off. “I’m glad your mom would’ve liked me. I know Michael approves. It’s… odd. The first time I figured out you were coming, I went to his grave. First time I’d been there since the funeral. Of course he couldn’t talk to me - he isn’t exactly here anymore - but it’s that weird _feeling someone over your shoulder_ thing.”

She does her best to ignore the music in the background as she walks up to the door, flicks on the radio. It represents all of her problems, all of her ties to Edwards Island, and everything that’s kept her stuck in the past. All of it. Jonas doesn’t have the past she does here, so he keeps the older radio, while she keeps a piece of the action with her. The idea draws dark laughter from her. How ironic, that the thing that’s kept her here will be her salvation. Alex starts tuning to the right signal.

“I told him you were coming. Everything I knew about you— juvie, your mom, the pickup truck I’d seen outside my window earlier. Yeah. It’s stupid, but it seemed like he approved of it. Like he wanted me moving on without him. ‘Cause the wind picked up, and it smelled like pine— he always smelled like pine—”

The door swings open as she talks. It makes her pause. Then, she looks back toward Jonas, and offers one last soft look. A goodbye, in case things go wrong. In case she decides to stay. But after all of this, after everything they've been through? There isn’t any turning back.

Alex takes her first steps into the cave while whistling the same song emanating from the tape player behind her.

-

She’s barely a step into the echoing walls of the cave before Jonas grabs her hand, following - walking next to - leading the way inside. Because he’s got this.

…Probably.

He’s like 90% sure he’s figured it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Hoo buddy. Next chapter is the end of the main story. 
> 
> Also, next chapter will probably be late. Because I've been doing fictober, and we've been working on the bartender au, and I haven't actually finished editing the last three chapters yet. However! They are all completed, and the mood boards are made, and really all that's left is editing. So they will undoubtedly be posted. It just may be more like 5-10 days instead of 5-7 between updates. In the meantime, though: more jonalex content! Shorts for fictober! Holy Spirits!
> 
> As always, thanks for your support! Let us know what you thought of the chapter, what you think of the fic by dropping us a comment!  
> -OWT


	19. Chapter 19

**NINETEEN**

Clarissa is, of course, not herself. So much shadow has gathered around her that there’s hardly more than those glowing red eyes and a faint crimson outline to her. “You know, the truth is… we could’ve left, whenever we wanted. We weren’t… _prisoners_ of the cave. Not in whole.”

It’s the script again. Jonas sighs, feeling the weight of thousands of loops sinking his feet down into the earth. “Yeah… yeah, we know.” It’s weird, after everything tonight, that it’s _now_ that he’s really feeling pity for these things. These people - or they were, at least once. After everything they’ve done, he can’t exactly forgive them - he never intends to - but it’s sad, in a way. Infuriating, too, but also sad. 

“Whatever you think you can do, you can’t. We’re not going back, we _won’t…_ go back.”

There’s a weird lightness to his head as he shakes it back and forth, and he feels stretched, like he’s pulled in two directions at once. “All you ever _do_ is go back. Over and over and over again.”

There’s a steady growing hum, a rise in frequency as Clarissa’s body hovers. They’re running. They always run. 

-

Alex tightens her grip on his hand. For a while she waits, patient, listening to the words that curve from a place she recognizes and a place she doesn’t, though she can see a difference in Jonas. Probably what _she_ usually does. What happens to her, before they toss her into the void like some kind of spindly puppet. She never liked that feeling. Ever. So she steps in front of Jonas, mirroring his protective stance, as her eyes narrow.

“Stop fucking with him. This is the last time you’ll get to do any of this, you assholes. I’ll personally make sure it’s the last time.” Her voice has the same snap-crackle-pop of a firework. The ghosts seem amused. That, somehow, pisses her off more. “You’ve done this too many damn loops. C’mon, then. Fess up.”

“Wait your turn, child. You are no longer the one in control.” Alex can feel it like a bear trap around her throat. Some of that darkness reaches out, digs into the back of her mind, and then she’s gone. Slammed from one reality into the next, scrambling for some kind of purchase on pure void before she shows up on something like the hillside. Jonas should be here soon, once he tunes in. Clarissa, or not-Clarissa, whatever they’re being called now; hasn’t appeared yet. They must still be talking. In the meantime, she gets her radio ready again.

They don’t have to close the breach, that’ll trap both of them inside. All they have to do is buy a little bit of time. Or, rather, she does. Jonas can handle the rest. He has to. For all their sakes. The original tuner has to talk the ghosts down. Maybe it’s more off script than that? Maybe. There are a whole lot of maybe and maybe not situations right now.

-

His hackles raise when they take Alex, but Jonas tries to stay calm. He’s got this. Instead of getting pissed, he focuses on his breathing, on staying composed. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he considers that his composure wouldn’t have been possible a year or two ago. Before everything that happened to him, that made him who he is now. Eyes narrow slightly at the thing before him, a little irritated by his own realization, even if it proves his point. No one wants to be told that everything happens for a reason. And that’s not really what he thinks, in the end. Only that— that the way things _have_ happened has changed the way things _will_ happen. Or _can_ happen.

Clarissa’s voice shifts, no longer strained through a human voice box. 

_You have chosen. Soldier._

He nods, slowly. Yeah, he did. And it wasn’t easy. 

_She has not._

“I know.” There’s a nervous energy biting at his fingertips, but he stays still, maybe even too still. 

_She will. Choose to stay._

It’s like he can feel the bones rubbing against one another as he shakes his head, the pressure in the cave adjusting. “I don’t think so. I think— I think we’ve learned what you’re too scared to know.” His voice is even, confident but grim. 

The thing stares at him. And disappears. 

Running running, always running, trying to get them to run, too. That isn’t what this is about. It’s not a— a treadmill, it’s… it’s a field. No— it’s the whole fucking world. They don’t need to walk the same steps over and over, they need to _move on._ To accept that things have passed and let it be.

He takes a breath, flips the switch, grits his teeth and tunes. 

-

Jonas isn’t here. Why isn’t Jonas here? Sure, she’s done this alone countless times, but that was always on script. That was different. That was before his flashbacks, and her random visions, and trying her best not to give in to temptation. Like some kind of weird Apple of Eden situation. She really needs to stop making comparisons to other stories. This is her own narrative. And she gets to choose how it ends. Just like always. 

Clarissa appears on her own, standing - no, still hovering - over the wooden boards of the bridge. The ghost of a smile is tugging at her lips. None of this is going the way she wants it to, but that’s fine. It’ll be fine.

 _Sleepy Time Gal._  
_Come back. To play._  
_We had wondered._  
_If you. Would._

“Well, I did. Now give me my Jonas, please, he’s missing from his proper spot right here,” she points at her left side, a scowl on her face. “Next to me. Okay? Cool.”

 _You haven’t._  
_Earned. Him._

-

He’s been left under the ocean. Walking in the dark, steadily, until there’s a light ahead. The eerie green light filtered through the Pacific. Jonas watches. Jonas witnesses. The Kanaloa is destroyed, and he has nothing to say. 

The blast rips through him, shaking him down to his core, moving the marrow in his bones and making his teeth chatter in his gums. The world goes white. 

-

Alex has to force herself not to scoff. She, of all people, hasn’t earned him? And it isn’t even— You don’t earn a person. You don’t earn love, either, she knows that much. Love is something given. Not some weird prize. So she crosses her arms, fiddles with the radio, does her best not to freak out or respond. They’re impatient tonight.

The visage of not-Clarissa is upon her in seconds, with one hand clasped around her throat. Alex’s radio drops to the ground as they move, and she claws, gasps, even though here she doesn’t need to breathe. She’s never really needed to during these moments. Away from the grass, over the ravine, hanging, dangling, a hair’s breadth away from no more her.

-

When Jonas shifts into existence in this little side dimension they’ve found, the thing that is no longer Clarissa has Alex on the edge. 

-

 _Choose. Alexandra._  
_Jonas._  
_Michael._  
_Or both._

-

“She doesn’t have to choose.” His heartbeat is hammering in his chest, but he stands still, addressing the Sunken. He’s not attacking them, not seizing Alex from their grasp. He won’t need to. (Or - fuck, he really hopes he won’t need to.)

Clarissa’s head turns toward him, too much - owlishly exaggerated as she looks past her shoulder. Jonas holds his breath, and then the shadowy figure glitches and Alex is sprawled on the ground and the thing is facing him fully again. 

_We give her. A choice._

_No, no, no._ Shaking his head. “We don’t get to choose what happened in the past. We can’t undo the worst things that happened to us— the worst things we did.” 

There is no expression on her face, just like there’s no humanity left in her voice. 

_…WE can._

“Can you? When it all comes down to it, what are you really doing? The same as us: reliving the same thing over and over. Does it ever change? Do you ever get free?”

The silence goes on too long. Jonas’s fingertips twitch nervously, but he tries not to let his fear show. Finally, they speak. 

_You can. Change._

“No, we can’t. Not if we’re set right back at the beginning.”

There’s a glitch in the air, more lights coming on in shadow. It’s too early to say if this is working. But at least it’s off script. 

The day in the hospital, the day his mom gave him that knowing smile. There are loops, he knows, where he thinks she might be trapped here. But that can’t be true. The things here are clinging tight to the ground, to the water, to everything that they once had. _So it goes._ “Things happen. Horrible things. Sometimes we do them, sometimes they’re done to us. We don’t have to go down without a fight, but we can’t undo what happened.”

_WE CAN._

“No. The most we can do is choose how to move forward. That is the choice we get.” 

_But they will. Forget._

“Maybe.” God, he really hopes that doesn’t piss them off. It’s the truth. “People would rather forget than be hurt by their own mistakes. But… our mistakes are important.” Jonas isn’t entirely sure how much of this is speaking out his ass. Maybe less than he might think. “It’s… hard to accept that things happen. So we try to distract ourselves, or lie to ourselves. But the things we’ve done change us. The ones who knew… they remembered. Maggie remembered. And— well, I guess I can’t speak for everyone, but I doubt _I’ll_ ever forget.”

Once more, there is silence. Clarissa’s face has gone slack, vacant, and the lights in the air blink on and off. Jonas feels like the air is charged, like it’s pulling his skin into goosebumps.

 _…We are._  
_Remembered._

The air comes out of his lungs in a long stream. “Yeah.” There’s a warmth off the ground, a humming that is less violent and more… comforting? “…Yeah, you are.”

-

That’s… Not where she expected Jonas to go with this. She isn’t complaining— they’ve dropped her, at least, which is a step up from being dead. But it would be impossible to do this easily. Of course it won’t be easy. Not-Clarissa stares at them both, as if the words are echoing around in her head, taking them in. 

“We’ll remember all of it. Every one of you. Anna, Henry, Francis, Calvin. All of you. You’ve drilled it into our heads anyways— 12 passengers, 85 officers.” Alex is still coughing, but she manages That’s all she has to do now; she just has to manage. She just has to breathe. Hope it goes well. Hope Jonas can win them over. 

_If we are. Remembered._  
_We will give you. One last._  
_Hurrah._

Alex knows where she’s going before it even happens. Out of the odd mindspace, and into her bedroom - what was once Michael’s bedroom before he was moved into the attic. Her parents hadn’t really planned for another child, but that had been okay. She was always loved. So for a while, she tries to orient herself. Her hair is still brown, still in her old clothes, and Michael is moving boxes upstairs. He’d said he planned on going out of state for college, with Clarissa. She’d been surprised the redhead was even considering college, but that wasn’t something that could just be said out loud. Oh god. This is it, isn’t it? The last time she’ll see him. Forever.

The stairs creak in all the same places as usual, and Michael notices her before she’s even halfway there, turning on his heels to open the door some more so that she can slip inside. Her stomach drops. He’s humming as he packs his bags, a soft kind of smile on his face. Everything hurts. Just… all of it. The ghosts must have brightened the colors, or turned up the contrast, because it seems so much happier than she actually was on this day. Two before the horrible, terrible murder at Horn Lake.

“Hey… Look, I know I haven’t been the most honest with you these days.” No. He’d been going out more with Clarissa, making plans to leave. “But I do want to break the news to you, before telling mom and dad about it. That, and it’ll probably have more to do with you, than with them, if I’m being honest.” 

Her eyes fix on the ground. Michael laughs, cuffs her over the ear. “Ow— Hey! Rude!” 

He’s laughing. “Well, you were doing one of your signature Alex-sleeps-on-her-feet moves, and this is kind of important! Just promise me I have your attention, okay?”

“Okay, okay. You have my absolute, undivided attention right now. What is it?” Here it comes.

“I’m not going to college. Well— Okay, no, I _am_ going to college, but just… Not yet. I want a gap year to see the world. To get to know everything. And I’m taking Clarissa with me. Since you said you were okay with her, I know that’s squared away, but I want to know what you think about the distance.” He settles onto the edge of his bed, pats the spot next to it. Alex gravitates forward before she can even blink. “Do you want me to stay?”

Say yes, keep him alive, be more openly with Jonas. The loop keeps going. Say no, let him die, face years of hiding and being afraid that something happens. Close the time break. Two options. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.

“Michael.” She has to prepare herself. It’s not stalling, or she doesn’t think it is, but Alex wasn’t aware something could hurt this much. “Your life shouldn’t be dictated by your kid sister. If you wanna leave, then leave! Venture forth into the wild yonder, I’m not gonna stop you. I’m especially not gonna stop you if it gets the heebie-jeebies out of you and Clarissa.” She elbows his side, he elbows back. Her heart aches. “But promise me one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Come back and visit. And— Before you go… We need to visit Horn Lake one last time. Just the two of us for a swim, okay?”

Michael’s grin is as wide as his arms when he offers them up for a hug. “Of course, you little terror.”

She laughs. It’s real, but it doesn’t feel like it is. The rest of her words close up in her throat when Alex wraps herself up in him, listens to his heartbeat, feels the warmth that had drained from his body. Everything hurts. She doesn’t want it to end. But it has to. It has to, because this is how it has to be. Let go. Just…

-

Alex glitches out of existence, and Jonas is left alone. “Is she…” He’s not sure he has the guts to ask a question, not when he’s still not sure if the Sunken are off their time-loop rampage yet. 

_She will. Choose._  
_We will. See._

He nods, slowly. The trust he has in her is absolute. After everything… No doubts. None. 

_At ease. Soldier._

As it all goes blurry, he sees the Clarissa puppet collapsing. Then everything feels like static and pins and needles and it’s not exactly the best feeling, but once it all clears he’s back in the cave, just inside the entrance. 

Alex is on the ground, eyes a dim red; still. He stretches, because it feels like his whole body is stiff and cold, and that’s not the best condition to be in for this next bit. 

It’s weird— he doesn’t remember much of the end of the night. Just like he doesn’t remember the rest of the loop. So he’s surprised to find Ren and Nona jumping to their feet as he carries Alex out of the cave. 

“Oh my god!” 

“Alex!”

That’s… well, whatever. He’s fine, thanks for asking. But it’s fair; he’d also be way more concerned over Alex than whoever was carrying her out like some kind of pallbearer. 

“She’s fine. She’s— well, okay, she’s possessed-ish, but not in a bad way. I think…” He hesitates to say that they’re in the clear, that the loop is over. Doesn’t want to jinx anything. “She should be okay in a few. Let’s just get to the ferry.”

It’s a slow walk, but Ren and Nona already went through the trouble of cutting away part of the fence, so at least that isn’t an issue. It’s just a matter of lugging Alex’s unconscious body up _Jesus Christ God why are there so many stairs holy Hell._ But he doesn’t mind. If he were paying a little closer attention, he might have noticed the looks shot between Ren and Nona at his complete lack of complaint. 

Clarissa, miraculously, seems alive and well, though she complains of a splitting headache and groans that she needs a drink before slumping over in a chair by the dock. 

There’s a short wait at the ferry landing, Jonas’s fingers twining with Alex’s unthinkingly, keeping by her side while Ren and Nona go chuck pebbles off the dock. Soon enough, the boat’s in sight, a fog horn blasting deep in the misty air. No one else is on the ferry. Jonas wonders if this was something Ren arranged ahead of time, but doesn’t bother asking. 

By the time they take off from the landing, Alex’s eyes are closed, and Jonas is 90% sure they aren’t glowing anymore, but it isn’t until they’re already halfway home that she stirs. Nona and Ren are chatting on the front deck, Clarissa is glaring off the starboard bow, and Jonas knows he _should_ say something to them, tell them she’s coming around, that she’s waking up, but some small selfish part of him wants this moment for himself. 

She’s lying across a bench in the ferry, head in his lap, and he pushes her hair back. “Hey.” The greeting is soft, slow, and painfully gentle, because he cannot possibly describe the relief at seeing eyes so wholly her own after everything they just went through. 

-

Her head hurts more than she remembers it usually, at the end of the loop. Jonas is still here. Whole. Which means… Alex didn’t change the timeline. Michael is still dead. For a moment, she just processes, eyebrows furrowing as she tries to breathe normally for just a few moments. Slowly, she sits up, trying not to make the world spin any more than it already is. But they did it. If everything went as planned, then the loop should be over. All of it should be over. For everyone.

She checks the tick marks on her arms after shoving the jacket down around her shoulders, looks for any other signs of injury, and then does the same for Jonas, painfully aware that Ren; Nona and Clarissa are all just outside. There’s a beat of silence as she just looks at him, before a shaky smile starts across her face. What confirms her thoughts is the conversation Ren and the rest are having. 

“…So, Alex and I were all like ‘aaa oh my god it’s a monster!’ while her dad chases us around the kitchen.”

“You two are dorks.” Clarissa’s snark is easy enough to hear. Looks like she made it, too.

It isn’t that stupid poetry line. Sure, it’s a story that she’d rather not remember, but it’s different. It’s off script. Completely and utterly. Before she thinks about it, Alex has her arms around Jonas’s neck and her legs around his waist, completely wrapped around him, and laughing. That gets Nona’s attention, and she can nearly hear the smile in the other’s voice.

“Hey, Ren, your best friend is up!” The sound of footfalls comes just after, three different pairs as they all move to the inside of the cabin. Dawn is breaking outside, but she just… doesn’t care. 

Her voice comes out soft and small, spoken against Jonas’s neck. “I did it. Jonas, I— We did it. It’s over. It’s all over.” Or at least she thinks it is. They won’t really _know_ until August. But that doesn’t matter now. What matters is that she hadn’t given in to them. She hadn’t just given up, and stayed. Clarissa mentions something about her always being clingy, and Ren laughs.

“C’mon, give her a little break, at least. The girl was probably in the middle of like, some terrible horrible nightmare scenario.” 

“Yeah, but this is… Wow, she’s really not letting go, huh.”

“Nope! And rightfully so! Which means… Congrats, Jonas, you haven’t been completely cut from the group! Hoo-Rah!”

Nona elbows her best friend, and she elbows back. 

Things are beautiful. They still hurt. But the hurting doesn’t make them less beautiful, and the beauty doesn’t make them hurt less. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay then. There you go, plot complete!
> 
> ...Of course, there is an epilogue. Or two, actually. 
> 
> In the meantime, we'd love to hear thoughts, questions, predictions, any and everything you'd like to share. Thanks for sticking with us for the whole island fiasco!
> 
> \- OWT


	20. EPILOGUE

**EPILOGUE**

It feels like the hottest day of the year in Camena, the sun beating down, though a nice breeze is making the trees that shade the patio sort of whisper. It’s… not too bad. Not nearly as ominous as he’d expected August 8th to be. 

Jonas floats in the shallow end of Ren’s pool; an officially welcome guest since Ren’s family left for vacation two days ago and he and Alex got house/pet-sitting duties (including full use of the pool, as long as they keep it clean). It is a blessed relief from the heat of the day. Alex still isn’t a huge fan of open water, but she’s made an exception for Ren’s pool _for now_ ‘cause there’s nothing to catch onto on the bottom and it’s shallow most of the way through. 

They were volunteered for the job (well, maybe recommended, since they _are_ getting paid) by Grace, which kind of complicated Jonas’s ‘August 8th Best Day Ever’ plans. Not to say he hasn’t tried to think of something. In all honesty, he’s more excited about just having alone time with Alex. Maybe the whole swimsuit thing isn’t bad either, though he’s not about to admit that to anyone. 

She’s laid out in a beached raft that’s way too big (but hey, isn’t that just typical for Ren’s family), an inch of water inside that’s been heating in the sun. Jonas pulls himself out of the water, dripping, and tumbles down next to her with a smirk as the whole thing bounces with the addition of his weight, their arms jostling against each other. He presses a kiss to her shoulder, cranes his neck to get closer and grins as he manages to brush his lips just below her ear. 

-

Alex hasn’t been in the greatest mood today. She is completely aware that this is when the timeline usually resets, and even if the rest of the school year had gone more than smoothly, it still makes her worry. Like a little demon banging pots and pans around in the back of her head. But having absolutely nothing to do while the rest of the world drags on around them is a bit better. She has to hold on to one of the raft’s sides when Jonas plops himself onto it, snorting out laughter as her eyes turn on him.

“Be careful, lover boy, you might make me flip out on you again.” Her skin is hotter than normal, thanks to basking in the sun for a good hour. But his is still cool - even if half wet - which only gives her a half excuse to wrap an arm around him and curl up closer. The cherry smoothie she’d made is still settled on the tiles of the pool’s edge, glass sweating as it slowly turns less ice and more slush. All they’re missing for some weird two person pool party is a whole bunch of vodka and a bluetooth speaker playing old Madonna hits. But that isn’t even the type of music they listen to, so. Doesn’t matter.

With the heat, it might be enough to get her further into the pool than just ankle deep. As the months went on, her mind had strayed further and further from Michael, further from the incident. It left room for everything else that Alex has now. A new stepfather to get used to, more focus on schoolwork— and of course, making sure that Jonas doesn’t do anything stupid while she’s around. Which happens more than it’s worth, in her opinion.

-

It shouldn’t make his stomach do flips when she calls him that. _Lover boy._ But it does. Jonas can’t stop smiling as she brings herself closer, but it goes mischievous for a second. The raft puts up a real commotion of squeaks and splashes as he rolls himself to loom over her, shielding her from the sun. He’s very nearly in pushup position, and lowers himself for a moment, the chain around his neck pooling at her throat, eyes half lidded as he ducks like he’s about to kiss her. But then that grin is back and he’s pulling himself back up and shaking his head like a dog, the little rap of water droplets hitting raft wall underscoring his laugh. 

“Sorry! Sorry, I just— God.” He was going to say he couldn’t resist, but there’s something else he can’t resist at the moment, and for once they’re in a place where he doesn’t _have_ to, so he leans down and catches her mouth and hums against her because they don’t get nearly enough of this.

It’s a little weird, hiding their relationship constantly. Not necessarily bad all the time, ‘cause the idea has sort of grown on him, and there may be a slight thrill alongside the minor paranoia any time they end up playing footsie at the dinner table or whatever. Maybe more of a thrill during the school year, when she was tugging him under the stairs while classes were in session, before telling him off for skipping and sending him away trying to hide his grin. Like she wasn’t blowing off her study hall as much as he was. Just ‘cause his absence was more noticeable from his fifth period specialized study course than her vague ‘hang out in the library or computer lab or somewhere and work on class things’ didn’t mean she wasn’t also blatantly going against the spirit of the rules. 

Clarissa’s graduation party was the worst. The family section was alright, they brushed pinkies a few times, kept an eye on each other throughout, but by the afterparty, once there was alcohol around it was a lot harder to stay vigilant. They may have spent a while cooped up in her laundry room. And may have exited flushed and maybe a little marked up.

At this point, Jonas is about 80% sure everyone else from the island crew is aware of their whole deal. And they seem wary to mention anything, for whatever reason. No one bothered asking where the hickeys came from, for one, though neither of them was going on any dates. (The one half-hearted attempt to cover his ass by taking that one girl, Nicole, to the movies went bass-ackwards, and he never wants to speak of it again.) They’ve been more careful with their parents, because that can only go badly, but they were happy to believe whatever they were told, as long as there weren’t any legal, behavioral, or academic issues sprouting up. 

-

Jonas shaking himself out like a wet dog isn’t her ideal way to get somewhat less crisped, and she has to cover up her eyes with an only half-annoyed laugh. She was originally going to tell him off, but then he’s kissing her, and well… Alex isn’t going to deny him that. And what’s the problem with forgetting, for just a little while? Especially since Ren’s family has a massive driveway, a high fence, and nearly everyone is out of town for some reason. Less of a risk than her usual grab-and-go trysts with him, and more time to keep doing it in the first place. Though once she breaks away, Alex gently kicks him in the shin.

“What are you, a mutt? C’mon, Jonas, you know better than to just shake water off.” She goes to slick his bangs out of his face, sitting up enough to grab her smoothie and take a few sips before sticking the side of the glass to his face. A little bit of her own payback. 

-

The cold on his cheek actually feels kind of nice, but he plays up a reaction, pulling back with a hiss and a face. 

If literally anyone except Alex had been the one to compare him to a dog, Jonas might have been offended. Maybe not entirely surprised, in all honesty, ‘cause people could be dicks, but still a little irritated. But Alex is just as much of a mongrel as him, underneath it all. Some adorable three-legged Lady to his Tramp. Huh. Maybe they should go for Italian for dinner? Or even better, make Italian? Spaghetti is one of the few things he’s capable of making. 

-

“Thought you had a better pedigree than that. Especially since you’re dating me of all people, which— God, why would you ever do that to yourself.”

She’s only half joking. It’s still amazing to her how he’s actually in love with her. Sure, she’s known ever since the stupid haunted island, but she never really thought she’d be dating someone after the whole incident. Mostly because usually everyone treated her like some broken glass art piece. 

When she’d tried to distance herself from it before, by dyeing her hair and acting out, it hadn’t done anything. People still knew Alex, because this is her hometown, and there pretty much isn’t anyone that doesn’t know someone. But then Jonas came. Now they still stare, sure, but they stare at them both. That makes it easier.

Maybe all she’d really needed was someone on her side.

Alex’s phone buzzes violently, and she groans, pulling herself out from underneath Jonas to walk over to the patio table to check it. 

-

She scampers away and he falls onto his side, rolling onto his back. “Because I love you!” His voice is maybe a little too loud, but there probably isn’t anyone actively attempting to eavesdrop over Ren’s expansive back patio just to hear him blatantly confess his feelings, grinning at her back. 

Jesus. She just… makes him so happy. He watches her walk to the table, playing with the ring around his neck. He hadn’t been lying, back on the island. His mom would love Alex. But not as much as he does. 

-

A text from Ren. It has one of the stupid picture attachments of him and a dolphin, that big ol’ smile on his face.

RENGINOLD  
  
Wish you were here, Al! Hope you and Jonas are having just as much fun as I am! 😜

The gall of that fucker, to send a winky face.

RENGINOLD  
  
You are a menace, Ren.  
  
You two done it yet?  
  
REN!

Well. There goes her calm, cool and collected facade.

-

“Who is it?” Jonas has the back of his head propped on the edge of the raft so he can look at her, his fingers tapping out little triplets in the shallow water, cupping it to pour it into his belly button, in general just splashing it around. “Oh God. I hope Grace isn’t on your case about the school stuff.” They’ve both been getting pressure about testing and applications and all of that business. 

Jonas doesn’t have any set plans (maybe part of him has been holding his breath a bit, just in case— a tiny part of him, waiting in the back of his mind). He’s thought about doing some kind of vocational schooling, maybe. Or just getting some gen eds. Truth be told, after closing out the year at Camena High, he’s not sure he needs to do senior year. He’s got basically what he needs for a GED, and after that… who knows. The world is full of choices, and he’s got an infinite number of roads laid out before him. 

Her fingers are tapping away at her phone, and he can just barely see the faint white shadow of marks along her forearms. The scars are fading, now - and weirdly quickly, which he thinks is a good sign that whatever had hold of them on the island is dissipating, but he’s not sure if that’s how she feels about it - but they already caused their melodrama. Well… there was nothing ‘mellow’ about it. Melo? Regardless, it wasn’t a good time. Jonas was freaking the fuck out when she just… disappeared. 

Apparently, Grace had seen the scars, been horrified, and wanted to get Alex some kind of psych help. However she’d approached it apparently had made… something happen. He’s not sure, he wasn’t there for all of it. He caught the tail end, half in overheard shouts until he nearly tripped over his own feet hurrying down the stairs from his room in the attic. There was something about Alex needing help, something about mandatory 72 hours, and then Jonas’s dad stepped in and pulled Grace aside and Alex had stormed away and Jonas had tried to get a straight answer from the parental figures only to be grilled so hard about things he didn’t feel comfortable answering - and then viewed with such suspicion over it - that he had to shoot his dad a look before silently leaving the premises. 

He’d tried to text Alex, after walking a solid two miles to the local playground to calm himself down, and had gotten back some really cryptic shit. When he’d returned that night and knocked on her door, she was already asleep. 

The next morning she was gone. 

Grace was a wreck, Jonas’s dad had to talk her down from calling in the police, and Jonas - after freaking the fuck out, and maybe possibly having a panic attack and maybe possibly flashing back and wondering if she’d just been pulled into a loop - because of course she didn’t bring her phone, the delinquent - ended up skipping school to drive around and check all their usual spots only to receive a text midday from her email; an audio file of morse code that only served to freak him out _further_ until, after a hasty (and sloppy) decoding, he got something like _not a6out ihfand_ , which only served to shift him from terrified to pissed off, because _what the fuck, Alex,_ that was not the way to send a message after everything that had happened to them. 

She was gone for a few days. He found her halfway through the second, and she’d insisted he leave his phone in his car while they walked a ways away to talk about the threat. He, at least, brought good news about Grace. A change of heart, thanks to Jonas’s dad, who cautioned against turning over her kid to people who wouldn’t give her back even if they asked. The scars were old, or looked old, and it wasn’t an ongoing issue as far as they could tell. Didn’t stop them from locking the knives away, though, once she came back. They conveniently forgot Jonas’s knack with a $10 set of lock picks. He didn’t need to use it much, but he refused to be Alex’s jailer when the parents weren’t around to ask for permission to do whatever it was they needed. They gave up on it after a few weeks. 

He sees her scars, and he remembers how they got there, and one more time he needs the assurance that she’s still there, that she’s still real, and that if they’re pulled anywhere they’ll be pulled together, so he stands and wet feet slap against the pool deck until he’s wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against him, kissing the top of her head, breathing in the scent of second-hand chlorine and sunscreen and Alex. 

-

Alex rolls her eyes a bit at him, but nonetheless she hands over the phone. “Nah. My mom hasn’t mentioned much ever since the whole disconnect with the sharpened kitchen utensils. It’s just Ren being himself at some weird South American SeaWorld. Which— Y’know. Stupid rich.” He’s texted her something back, but she doesn’t really pay attention to it. Instead she tips her head up toward Jonas with a soft kind of smile, butting it against his chin like she almost always does. It’s half a tick and half an inside joke— She and her mom would do it when Alex was younger, whenever she got scared or worried, and before long it just became a second version of ‘I love you.’

-

Jonas glances down as the phone buzzes in his hand, raising an eyebrow at the message simply reading:

RENGINOLD  
  
Get some!!! Allison’s room is free reign, she’s being a real B on this trip, go break her headboard or something. 😁👉👌

Well, that seems to confirm his theory. 

Alex leans back to nudge against his chin and he swipes her phone to camera, flips it the bird with an unimpressed expression as he kisses her jaw, and promptly shoots the photo to Ren. 

“That should shut him up for a bit, at least.” There’s some element of satisfaction in Jonas’s not-quite-smug smile, kissing up and down her neck exaggeratedly, until she’s laughing. 

-

Maybe she could deal with going in the pool today. Not deep - and not without Jonas - but maybe. Just to cool off. There was the whole plan thing he had, that he’d tried (and failed) to be secretive about. But then the housekeeping job had happened, and so that’s just a little bit of a no-go, at least for outdoor activities. He still has the nighttime going for him. She hasn’t let him in on the fact that she’s aware of it. Better to let him think he can still surprise her, even if just a little bit.

So they stand there in the shade of the patio, and she listens to life. It’s always something that comforts Alex, since they got off of the island. Cicadas, heartbeats, breath— Hell, even just someone murmuring nothing. Life is something real, something happening as they go along, completely present and completely improvised. It reassures her that the loop probably won’t continue. That she still has every single chance available to her— and every opportunity to make choices. On script, or off script.

Then again, they’ve really just tossed that thing out the window, huh? Good. She never wants to have to follow a script again. Which means no one else has to, either. Gently, Alex turns around enough to press kisses along his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist with an all too suspicious smile. She’d figured out a while ago that if she says the right things, Jonas will just come running. Maybe a bit rude, or manipulative, but it’s usually about getting something off of the top shelf. Or unlocking the knife cabinet so that she can cut a pizza. Which means, in some ways, she was using her feminine wiles for good. Even if they only seem to work on Jonas and the boys working a serving job. That part’s fun, too. Making him jealous when he has absolutely nothing to be jealous over. 

There’s a reason his one date went wrong. Not her - she wouldn’t _dream_ of that, oh no - but there was a reason.

-

For all his bravado, his overt flirtation just a moment ago, Jonas still feels the blush creeping over him when her lips touch his skin. Like this hasn’t happened before. Every single time. His hold around her tightens for a moment. 

“Look, if this is how you wanna spend the dreaded August 8th, I’m not about to complain.” The statement - half-hopeful - is almost a mumble, hoarser than he’d like to admit, because she just— she _has_ him. She has him wrapped around her finger and he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

“The only thing we _have_ to do today is wait for Miss Kiki to get dropped off by the doggy daycare people, get her her dinner, and lock up. We’ve got three hours to kill.” And if she wants to take Ren’s suggestion… well… Jonas clears his throat. “Up to you.”

-

She can’t help the grin that comes to her lips. “Okay, first; Ren should not control what we do as people, though his suggestion has been… taken into account, for lack of a better word. But,” Alex nods her head a bit toward the pool, and her face falls to something more like worry. It’s bothered her for a good while, the situation of both getting over Michael’s death and her own resulting fear of water. Even if she’s been slowly but surely getting better about it. With a whole lot of help. “I used to love swimming, before everything. Of course I’ve been meaning to try it again. So.”

It always makes her ache a little bit, to pull away from him, but it isn’t like she’s losing him forever. That’s something she has to convince herself of more often than she’d like. That Jonas is here, and he’ll be here for the rest of her life. Things just kept getting taken away, and taken away. Having something constant is weird.

Alex stretches herself out just a bit, and then pads her way over to the edge of the shallow side of the pool, still unwilling to just… get in. It always takes her a bit. Staring at the stuff, like it’ll jump out and grab her if she makes a wrong move.

-

The float Jonas pulls into the pool with him is definitely Ellie’s because it’s a puffy unicorn innertube. (Then again, that doesn’t mean it isn’t Ren’s…) 

He slides down into the water before her, sitting on one of the lower steps so just his shoulders and head are dry. This is obviously a big deal to her. And he wants to help however he can, but he’s no expert at this sort of thing. “…We don’t have to do this today.” He’s turned to face her (but that’s nothing new, she’s practically the sun in his solar system) and is watching her carefully, trying to evaluate her feelings on the issue. “We have all the time in the world.” Assuming the loops are over. Which he’s pretty sure they are, but… well. No way to know beyond a doubt until tomorrow comes.

-

“Yeah. Yeah, I know, it's just—” When she does finally step into the water, it’s still only enough to cover her feet, settling on the pools edge just above him. “Even if I couldn’t really swim well, and I still can’t, I loved the water. I wasn’t scared of it like I am now. And not being able to actually do something I thought of as fun, admittedly, both pisses me off to no end and absolutely terrifies me at the same time.”

At some point Alex is going to have to do this anyways. She can’t just ignore invitations for every single water-themed event that someone offers up to her. Having Jonas cover for her is kind of an add in to that entire idea; he can’t avoid it for her, either. Which means it’s better to get rid of the problem as quickly as possible. Without absolutely freaking out in the process. 

She goes to just about where she’s able, convincing herself that normal, chlorine-filled water isn’t the murky depths of a lake, that she can see the bottom from where she is; and manages to at least get one step above Jonas before grabbing on to his hand. The grip is too tight, and she may or may not be shaking a little bit, but Alex is handling it. For once.

-

There are words on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitates to say them. _Since when has being scared stopped you from doing something,_ and _You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met,_ and _If you can survive 97,219 loops, you can survive anything._ All of them feel cheesy, no matter how true he thinks they are. Instead he squeezes her hand. “Just take a seat. You’ve got like—” he counts the steps, “-like 4 levels of immersion therapy built right in. And we’ve got hours. I will be a human prune by the end of this, but hey; if that’s what you want, I’ll be here.”

His eyes skate off to the side, smile slipping into a smirk. “I mean— a little weird, if that’s what you’re into - the whole pruney-fingers bit - but who am I to judge, really.”

-

Her eyes roll just a bit at the words, and Alex punches his shoulder. “Some day, your quips are gonna get you killed, Jonas. And it’ll probably be me that does you in.” If he’s talking about immersion therapy, then technically, she’s already gone in two levels. And hey— If she only gets that far today, it won’t be too big of a problem. It’s still more progress than basically anything else she’s done within the year, even with the mandatory therapy and some psychological questioning. At least her mom and Martin usually schedule her appointments around the same time as Jonas’s. Means they don’t really have to wait to see each other.

It’s for different reasons, obviously - his is more anger management, hers is more anxiety and grief whatever - but that doesn’t mean it’s absolutely terrible all the time. Even if she barely ever listens to the advice given out to her. Absentmindedly, she flicks at the water’s surface, causing little ripples and watching the raft Jonas had dragged in with her. No doubt it was either Ren’s, or one of Ren’s sisters’. But she could probably use it as a grounding thing, if she actually got to the point of swimming.

-

Jonas grins at her threat and lets out a melodramatic wistful sigh. “And what a way to go.” It’s probably a good thing they have to keep their whole relationship under wraps most of the time, ‘cause he’d probably be disgustingly affectionate, otherwise. He makes up for lost time when he can. Like now, for instance. When he really doesn’t want to keep his hands off of her. 

His hands rest on her knees under the water. And then her thighs. And then her hips. And the water ripples around him as he half-floats into her space, pulling himself closer with a hold on her more solidly anchored form, nosing her elbow aside to brush his mouth against her waist where it hits the waterline. Teeth graze her skin lightly before he’s dragging his mouth up her side, his words murmured, buzzing against her. “Maybe I’ll just hide in a pool so you can’t get to me.” 

-

Alex almost can’t help the soft look in her eyes when she drags her fingers through his hair. “Then I’ll have to learn faster so that you can’t escape.” She bends a bit, just enough to wrap an arm around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. “But would you ever want to? Just a few minutes ago you were shouting to the world how much you loved me.”

Half the time, she would’ve asked him to do it again. Too much of one thing can make people annoyed, or angry— and if it’s a person, tempted to claw their actual eyes out. But Jonas is just… kind of a lost puppy to her, sometimes. After they’d gotten off the island, he’d called his job ‘following her around and trying not to die,’ which seems fitting. But the other half of the time, he’s more capable than Alex in so many different ways. Puppy to guard dog, guard dog to puppy.

And she’s the annoyed cat riding around on his back. With that thought, Alex dunks his head underwater for just a moment, tugging him right back up afterward. She’s apologizing already, because that was risky, and why did she do that again? Oh jeez.

-

“I see. You’re using my weaknesses against m-” He’s partway through the word before she’s pushed him under, and he barely has the presence of mind to hold his breath. When she lets him up, he splutters for a second, shaking the water out of his eyes and trying not to laugh at her wide-eyed apologies. Instead he just stands up, rising above the surface of the pool like some kind of sea monster, water clinging to him before pebbling up and sliding down. 

He’s taller than her this way, and using it to his advantage as he gets a hand on the ledge of the pool on either side of her, trapping her there in a way that might be intimidating if he wasn’t completely in her thrall. “So that’s how it is, huh? Starting your black widow career early? I hate to tell you this, but you’ve already taken about everything I have.” 

-

At least it gets her to focus on something other than possible ways she could have killed him. Even if he’s pulling something stupid like this. Alex pauses as she looks over him, then leans back onto the step behind her, lopsided grin on her face. Truth be told, she loves it when Jonas gets like this. Without other people around, so that he isn’t absolutely paranoid about every little thing he can do with their approval. She kicks her foot up enough to wrap it around the back of his knee and tug softly.

It doesn’t do much more than bring him down low enough for her to kiss him again. Lips roam over his shoulders, neck, jawline, anywhere she can reach. Oh, that might be a fun activity. At a later date. For now she curves her head back enough to look Jonas over, almost like she’s watching TV. Sure, he talks big, but she’s always the one jumping into things; taking the lead in the situation. 

-

Christ. She might not kill him violently, but she’s definitely killing him somehow. He goes down easy, happy to fall for her, even happier when she starts exploring, because _God._ The groan rumbles through every inch of him. “You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

-

 _“Impulsive,”_ her mother would tut at her, _”learn to control yourself.”_ But where’s the fun in that, hmm? Alex’s voice is cooing, her smirk only widening, “If I’ve taken everything, doll, you might wanna learn a few more skills. Because I certainly have more to give.”

-

“Okay, that does it. You’ve insulted me long enough.” His arms are wrapped around her, lifting her out of the water and letting her legs hook around his waist so he can lug her out of the pool. “You want skills? I’ll show you skills.” Jonas grins, though there’s definitely some mischief in it; “Which room is Allison’s?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We said they deserved a soft epilogue. ❤
> 
> There is, however, one last post-script to come. The aptly named _August 8th, 11pm._
> 
> -OWT


	21. August 8th, 11pm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is finally the end. 
> 
> While writing this chapter, Hammie and I were listening to M83's _Wait_ on repeat, so I figured I should go ahead and include that. It's up to you if you want to loop it over and over again like we did. But in order to get it to play at all, you'll need to **have flash player permissions enabled** in your browser. (In case that still doesn't work, there's a direct link to the track [here.](https://a.tumblr.com/tumblr_nfisa5AvTn1u3ja5vo1.mp3))
> 
> Enjoy!

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/188502844930/so-it-goes-alexjonas-closing-the-time-loop)

  
_Wait - M83_

**August 8th, 11PM**

“I can’t believe you _actually_ broke Allison’s headboard!” Alex is near cackling as they drive, streets all but deserted in the summer night. She has one of Jonas’ t-shirts on along with her usual jeans and sneakers - an after effect of getting ready too quickly when Kiki the pug was dropped off a bit earlier than expected - her feet kicked up on the dashboard as she sends Ren a badly-taken photo of a very broken headboard. Which she is not going to pay for. “Of course, I’m not saying it wasn’t an enjoyable problem.” She cuffs Jonas on the ear, careful not to make him jerk the steering wheel.

After some… _choice activity_ , she and Jonas had made one of the only things they both really knew how to cook, which was pasta. Of course, he had to bust out some kind of special marinara that only made it better, and actually authentic-tasting. Usually she only took hers with salt and butter, though for the one time she made an exception, it was pretty good. Now he’s in the middle of driving Alex to nowheresville, population two zany kids waiting for the world to end. On August 9th, at exactly 12AM, the loop would restart again. Apparently he has some kind of plan to wait it out as best they can.

-

He turns to try to kiss her hand as he swats at him, but misses, grinning ruefully. “Hey, Ren asked us to, right? Least we can do for the guy, after footing the bill for tonight’s excursion.” Whoops. May have said a teensy bit too much. But they’re almost there, anyway; not too far from the coast, an open field off the side of the highway that might be a little bumpy but they can handle it. Headlights travel over empty grass as he carefully navigates off the side of the road, getting as far as he can from any possible passing cars.

Once they’re in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, he turns off the truck and opens the door. For a second he pauses, then turns. “Look I kinda wanna set this up, but I dunno if you wanna just wait in the cab or…”

He’s got a lot stored in the toolbox installed in the bed of the truck. Probably more blankets than they need (but hey, extra padding, why not), a couple pillows stuffed down tight, about 10 strings of battery powered fairy lights (‘cause he didn’t have time to test them out and they were only a couple bucks a piece), a bottle of champagne courtesy of Ren(’s parents’ cellar), and a couple of solo cups ‘cause he’s not about to risk broken glass after some off-road driving.

It takes longer than he wants to figure out the lights, and how to string them up around the bed of the truck, but in the end they’re kinda sorta just about in place. The electrical tape that’s always in the back of the truck helps hold everything alright. Jonas checks his watch. 11:20. Forty minutes until the end of the world.

The champagne (barely kept cool thanks to packing it next to a couple frozen water bottles) is profusely sweating in the open toolbox as Jonas lifts Alex into the truck bed (truck bed… bed? Close enough, at this point) before climbing in himself.

-

Alex had just been texting with their friends on and off, sharing some of the better shenanigans to the group chat they’ve had since freshman year, and one she’s only recently decided to add Jonas into. Though once she sees the lights flickering on, she can’t help but investigate, coming around the back of the truck to find him with just about the perfect picnic set up on the flatbed. That was a surprise. She’d seen his plans, or at least some of them, but this wasn’t one of the things she’d managed to find.

As Jonas lifts her up, Alex grins at him, laying herself out on the blankets and stretching out until she’s comfortable. “You really did think of everything. And I mean everything. For someone’s last night alive…” Her voice is soft, mumbling as she tucks herself up against him, checking his watch almost obsessively. Just like she has been since they left the house. Champagne, little fairy lights, the stars, and life in the distance. Alex wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially not since he’s around.

The last few times she’d done this, she’d been unprepared. Afraid. Holed up in her room the weeks before, and on the final night, there had been times where she considered doing things she would have regretted. A lot. But not tonight. Not this version of August 8th. She’d always get odd dreams, too— dancing with a sailor, watching him leave, never getting him back. After a good number of loops, and asking her mother, she’d learned that it was probably one of her distant relatives. A grandparent or great aunt or distant cousin of some kind, or even earlier down the line than that. She’d never managed to catch much more. Being left in the dark is okay, too.

For now, they can pop bottles and drink to liberty, health, happiness— whatever they’re supposed to be toasting for in the first place. As long as it doesn’t loop again. As long as she isn’t back at the beginning again.

-

They’ve had their first drinks by 11:30. Jonas can’t stand checking his watch every five seconds, feeling panic creeping up on him. He clears his throat, takes off his watch, hides it under a fold of a blanket. “I’m gonna go fucking crazy if I keep watching the clock.” Just… focus on the moment. Enjoying what might possibly be their last night before it all resets.

They were already close, but now he’s wormed his foot under her ankle, twining their legs together, getting his arm around her because part of him is still a little worried. There’s no reason to think this night won’t pass into the next. Only a distant memory of one night through a multitude of facets, and the fading scars up and down her arms. His cup is forgotten as he reaches for her free hand with his, turning it to kiss those same scars for a moment before just twining his fingers with hers.

His heart shouldn’t be the steadily speeding wreck that it is. He’s supposed to be the reasonable one. But this is the first loop - or last? - that he’s aware of the time after the island. And, despite all the drama, it’s so worth it. If this is a loop… if he goes back… if he forgets… The thought of it sends a hollow ache through his chest, and he pulls her closer to press a kiss into her hair.

“Jesus, this is kind of the worst, isn’t it?” He needs another drink. Maybe that will help.

-

“Yeah. And you didn’t know about it the last 97,000 times.” She tucks herself up against him, letting out a soft kind of sigh. Looking at the stars, drinking champagne, and being held by Jonas. Three perks to try and offset the one big, horrible bad that’s creeping up on them like a dark cloud. “But… I have been meaning to tell you about her. The— the person I was, when I got shot back too far. Mostly because I think it’s interesting, rather than life-threatening.”

She leans back a bit, settles up against one side of the flatbed, and manages a smile. It’s still only a little bit into the night. The rest of it can wait. “Her name was Maria. Like the saint. I don’t really know much more than that, other than what I could see. Dating a sailor, he went to war, don’t think he ended up coming back. But she was happy with what she had, I think. As far as I can tell, it’s connected to the Kanaloa’s sinking, her lover. Just like how all of us are, now. Unless me not bringing Michael back finally broke this off, so. Hip hip hooray in case that happens.”

Alex refills her cup, and then downs it within just a few moments. It might be better drunk. Really, really drunk, so she doesn’t realize it’s coming. As if that can get her mind off of it somehow, or make it better. She shifts some of the blanket away from Jonas’s watch, and then almost instantly covers it back up again. He’s right. It’s going to drive her crazy, if she just keeps looking at it like it’s some kind of bomb.

-

Truth be told, this is exactly where he wants to be right now. Maybe this place in approximately half an hour, but everything else exactly the same. It’s not a bad night, not at all. He’s got Alex cradled against his chest, both of them sipping on champagne (that’s admittedly slipping from chilled to lukewarm as they speak), and the sky is shockingly clear.

Jonas listens to her, wonders if this Maria person had anything to do with the creepy-ass moment in Harden Tower. He plays with strands of caribbean blue hair, hesitates when she mentions Michael. Maybe… maybe it’s not true that he forgets the aftereffects of the Island. Because there are some he remembers. Only, they aren’t here. They’re in North Valley, with his mom. She got better, he wasn’t pissed enough to get in a fight and never went to juvie. The life that might have been.

“Did I… did I ever tell you about the choices I had, in my— um, my… timelines?” He’s not quite sure what to call them. Those realities where he was the sole radio holder. He’s not sure how many of those she remembers, if any. He doesn’t remember them much either. Just those choices. That choice. _Those_ choices, in the end, only because he’d already chosen to let his mom go. The hand around his cup comes up and thumbs at the ring still around his neck.

-

Alex shakes her head a bit, though her hand finds his on the ring, and she bumps their shoulders together. “No. But you don’t have to. I know what they probably would have been, and I remember blips of when it was just you on the radio. Something like you wanted to hear the ghosts, and I was the real problem child… I don’t really think you liked me those loops.”

A good Christian kid. That was what she’d been worried about when Jonas came around. Hearing about a guy named Martin, and the wedding, it had all seemed too perfect. Which by default had meant he had a perfect son in her eyes, too. But that was before she actually met Jonas— who was far from a good Christian kid. He’d been to juvie, had beat a kid half to death, and his mom was actually the one who was the good part of him. He was just a troubled guy. Like she was.

So, admittedly, she’d latched a bit onto him that first time they met. The ride over was awkward, both in the truck and on the ferry, and of course Ren’s whole thing hadn’t helped. But she wasn’t the only troublemaker in town anymore. She hasn’t mentioned it, but just a few days after what was supposed to be the ‘final’ loop, Alex had pretty much fought someone to keep his honor. It was some stupid conversation about how he was probably a jail bird— she can’t even remember, apart from the fact that it pissed her off.

So she’d punched them. Plain as day. And then kicked them in the shin when they tried to pull some stupid shit. Thank god it hadn’t been during school hours, or her mom would’ve had her head - probably Martin, too - but it wasn’t, and they were okay.

-

Jonas’s lips pull into a thin smile despite himself. “Well, I mean. You are. The problem child, I mean. The one insisting on needing forbidden knives to slice apples just ‘cause she can’t bother cleaning something out of the dishwasher.” And he was the one picking the locks on the cabinet to get her access to those knives. His smile widens a bit despite himself. He’d do it all over again, of course.

It falters for a moment though. “I—” He takes another sip, half to ease his suddenly dry mouth, and half because maybe it can give him that little boost. But he _does_ want to tell her. “There were two, actually. Usually just the one, I think, but this time it was two.” He pulls her a little closer, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“The first one is - was - with my mom. I think— I mean, I know I mentioned it, but… that’s where it took me. When she gave up on treatment. Or first mentioned it. And… sometimes, I guess, I could… talk her out of it. Get her to stay, to go on a little longer. And she’d get better. And in that case, when the night at the island was over, I’d wake up back in North Valley, never having met you guys. Never having moved.” It’s so weird. He wonders if this reality seemed as much of a dream to him then as that one does now.

“But the second one—” Another sip of liquid courage to open his tightening throat. “It was the day of the fight. The one that shipped my ass to juvenile detention.” His fingers scratch at the fabric of her sleeve— his sleeve. She still wears that jacket he wore on the island. He doesn’t mind; it looks better on her, anyway. Breath is held in his chest for a second, before he lets it all out. “And I had to do it again. The whole thing. Had to flip out on him and— and really just… _go for it._ Couldn’t be less serious than the real thing, ‘cause then my sentence would be shorter and… yeah. So. Beat the kid bloody. Got hauled off by the SRO, fucking _rabid._ ”

Jonas’s voice stalls out for a moment. “Anyway. Yeah. Just… just felt like— like you deserved to know, I guess.”

-

“Jonas,” her hands cup his face, and Alex runs her fingers along his cheeks, halfway in his lap and still with a soft smile. She means it. “You aren’t some kind of rabid beast. You aren’t feral, and you aren’t evil either. And no matter what you are, I’m still gonna stay with you. Because what happened in North Valley? That was a one-time incident. Fueled by too many things other people couldn’t possibly understand. Hell, I-” She pauses. Offers up a shuddery laugh. “I nearly did the same thing, for you.”

Alex tucks hair behind her ears and leans forward enough to lay on his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck as she stares up at the stars. The constellation of Leo won’t be in full swing for a while, and they can’t really see it around here anyway, but it’s a nice sentiment. To know she’s looking up at the same stars as the rest of humanity. “When we first got back, you remember how jumpy I was, right? Well… some kid started cussing you out, while you were in class. We’d gotten out early because of some weird teacher misscheduling, and without a sub since it was last period- yeah. Not the point here. He kept calling you stupid shit, which— Not on my fucking watch, y’know? Especially not with any adults around.”

She’d waited until he was halfway home to start doling out punishment. It almost makes her feel guilty now, even though she shouldn’t. “So I, uhm. I confronted him about it. Last thing I remember was him calling you a lowlife freak, and it just… Ka-pow! Gruesome twosome. Gave him a black eye and a broken nose. Surprised he didn’t tell anyone. I think it’s ‘cause he was afraid of getting beat up by the actual rabid girl who’d kicked him in the shin when he tried to spit on her shoes.”

-

“Well, would you look at that?” Jonas muses, shifting to look down at her with a slight smirk. “I’ve got my own white knight.” Honestly, not a thing he’s ever thought he’d say. Or _have,_ for that matter. His voice turns to a sardonic deadpan; “Here I thought I’d be the one protecting your honor. And you’re out there kicking ass.” Wait, he should probably be discouraging fighting, shouldn’t he? That’s what his therapist would want. Then again, he also wanted Jonas to meditate and that’s… not gonna happen. And he’s been encouraging team sports, when Jonas is already too self-conscious about being a year older than the rest of his classmates.

Christ. A year older. Or two hundred years older. Who’s to say, really?

Jonas tilts his head back, looking up at the stars. “You know… after this… we’ll actually have to make real plans.” They’ve both been less than reliable for anything involving the future, and even if their parents don’t always catch on, it hasn’t gone unnoticed by Jonas. There’s always a lag between being asked about plans after high school. Less so when asked about senior year, but it’s still there then. Hedging their bets. Trying to keep their expectations low, just in case. Can’t get too excited about a time that may never come.

“What—”

He’s interrupted by the beep of his watch, and his heart rockets into his throat, suddenly beating at hyperspeed. His grip on Alex tightens, and he swallows, thinking this might be too good to be true.

“We… we made it?” Wary eyes dart to where the thing is hidden under blankets, hesitant to check it himself.

-

Alex has one hand on the back of Jonas’s neck, and the other over the watch, still covered in blankets. They haven’t been zapped back yet. Usually, it would be in her sleep, or it would force her to if she tried to stay up. But… nothing’s happened yet. They’re both still here. No Edwards Island flashback. No trying to talk about the future as all of those memories slip away from her. She slides her foot forward, and then takes a hold of the little ticking time bomb, turning it over in her hands and waiting for everything to go wrong as she reads its face.

Twelve oh one. It’s 12:01, on August 9th.

A grin breaks across whatever tension she’d had before, and Alex is laughing, flipping around to kiss Jonas as hard as she can, because _they made it._ The loop is over. Nothing else is going to happen. When she pulls away, she’s breathless, eyes stinging even though this might just be the happiest moment of her entire life. However long that life has been depends on the outlook of those who had actually survived the Island experience. But that doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters anymore. Jonas is free. She’s free.

“We made it!”

-

The kiss takes his breath away - not that he had much of it to begin with, the realization had knocked it all out of him - but he goes on kissing her anyway because he’s not gonna pass up an opportunity like this, never again. Her face is in his hands and the relief is like a drug flooding through him. Is he shaking? Is it just how fast his pulse is racing?

And suddenly Jonas is laughing, and it’s practically manic because - holy shit - it’s _over,_ and it’s over _forever._ And he’s kissing her again and again because— well why the hell not. He’s hopelessly in love with her, and they aren’t going to forget, and— and all of it. All of it has happened. All of it is going to _stop_ happening. Never again will he board the ferry and hear the story about sugar cookies, and tune the radio, and see the triangle, and wake up at the tower, and watch Clarissa die and Ren become an antenna for ghost messages and Nona be terrified of something they’ll never know and— and sort through Maggie’s old stuff, and raid her house for boat keys, and go to the Catbird Station, and climb down into that bunker and… All of it. Never again.

-

“Okay— Okay okay okay, wait—” Alex only breaks away from him enough to grab both his cup, and the entire champagne bottle, filling up the stupid red plastic thing and handing it back to him before standing up in the bed of the truck. “I propose a toast!”

The truck rattles a bit when she climbs to the highest spot she can get, face rimmed by a sky full of stars, the moon her halo as Alex lifts the bottle up toward them. They are never going to get this moment again, and this time, she knows that for sure. It only makes each passing second better. Like the wind is blowing fresh air into her face. The most wild and free she’s ever been since Michael died, since Ren had convinced her to go to the island, since Jonas had kissed her for the first time… Since everything.

So she stands on the roof of his ratty pickup, breath in her lungs, wind in her hair, and grins while screaming to the world. “A toast for endings, and beginnings! A toast to beating the curse of Edwards Island! A toast to family, to friends, to whatever happens next!” There isn’t a thought in her head for anything else but the present. Caribbean blue hair frames wide, milk chocolate eyes, and they’re staring right at Jonas. Dead ahead. Prepared for the unknown.

“To our future, and the soon to be past: …So it ends.”

-

He scrambled up along with her, ready to catch her if she falls, and his cup is full, but he can’t bring himself to drink it. Just to stare at her, because she is radiant and she is so much stronger than he’s ever been and… His whole body is buzzing, every bit of energy in him stretched to its breaking point. It’s like someone else is speaking the words. “So it ends.”

“…So. What happens next?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys, we did it. It's over. This entire writing and reading journey Turner and I partook in (and took you along with us), has now come to a close. Of course it's not our only work- Most of you have probably already started following [_Holy Spirits_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20562917) and [_Blue Hair, Red Jacket_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21074483), which are both still being written. As of now I think they're both up to around one hundred pages or so? I know 'Spirits is definitely longer than that but hey, it's fun! Even if I haven't interacted much through this, I just wanted to thank you all again for your continued support, and I hope you enjoyed this final ending piece. 
> 
> -Hammie
> 
> (260+ for HS so far, actually. And about 140 for BHRJ if you count the Halloween party doc which is for some reason 55 pages so far.) (We write a lot, guys.)  
> Yeah. Whew. It's been a long road, but here we are; it's finally over. That's not to say there may not be other works set in this universe (they'll always get linked as associated works or however AO3 bills them, or you could sub to either of us so you get notified about new works), but this one part of it is all wrapped up. Thanks for reading through to the end! I think both of us are still crazy proud of ourselves for finishing a project for once, and see this work as a miracle of two longwinded procrastinators with short attention spans, and we're so happy to be able to share it. 
> 
> As always, feel free to drop a kudos or a comment. If you were quiet through the rest of the fic, I'm curious to know your thoughts (or just that you finished it at all xD). 
> 
> Thanks again ❤  
> -Turner

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [june 4th, 10pm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20918492) by [OneWhoTurns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoTurns/pseuds/OneWhoTurns)




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